Assholes & Idiots
by Dr. Captain Pepper
Summary: When you find out the world's greatest mafia is rooting itself within your neighborhood, you watch, you listen, and learn all you can—until everything goes up shit's creek. Then you make a plan. OC story.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: November 10th**

"Home," I declare to the seemingly lifeless house I'm standing in.

After a quick glance around the kitchen, through to the living room and out the giant window on the other side of the house, my heels click loudly as I wander to the metal kitchen sink nearby. Crouching to a cabinet below the sink, I grab a glass bowl, the bleach, and matches. The bowl clinks on the granite counter and the bleach is poured in. Then I take my driving gloves off. The black, grimy gloves concealing my bloody hands are dropped into the bowl of bleach. My lip twitches, causing the first smile since an hour ago. "Eww, the blood is coagulating."

I stop and squish my fingers around for a few moments.  
>Blood always makes my fingers feel funky.<p>

With an elbow I nudge the water on and rinse my hands. I cannot help but recall seeing Reborn as I walked out of the classroom. My eyes gaze upon the lifeless living room in front of me as I dip my hands in the bleach. _He must have seen what happened. The question is whether he will tell anyone._ I wash them again.

I pause, water still running. "What if Hibari finds out I killed someone on campus?"

I chuckle and start round two of my hand cleansing .

The bleach stings. My small fingers burn, but I set the dirty hands in the bowl once more. My light brown hands are burning a lighter shade, even becoming slightly pink, and a small ring on my pointer finger is shining anew. Another rinse and the scent of the bleach officially becomes overwhelming. I open a window nearby. At the same time I see a black car pull up from the gravel road to my house. A black Mercedes 300SLk, a nice car, a sexy car—a very fucking suspicious car.

A match scratched aflame, quickly sets the bowl afire.

Moving to an angle that I can't be seen in the house, I gaze upon the sedan parking on the circle drive in front. Patient, I watch two men exit their vehicle and I immediately step farther from the window's view. My eyes snap to the still lit bowl. "What the fuck are the Ninth Vongola's Guardians doing here?"

I peak upon two faces. Softly shutting sedan slammers, one is old and one is young. One is I know to be Visconti and the other I know as Ganauche III. My hands grip onto the cold countertop. Brows furrowed, I start going into a slight mental frenzy. _So dead. I am so fucking dead. What they hell did I do to catch their attention? I should've tried to not accept that job… I knew that shit was a bad idea. Vongola is big, Vongola is bad. God damn that boss of mine, and those fucking kids too!_

I stop and throw my hands up. "How did they even find my house? I'm not even in the fucking phone book!"

The fiery bowl beside me snuffs, so I quickly throw the thing in the recycling trash can close by since that is all I can do for now. The doorbell rings. Its song echoes over and over from the high ceilings. I pinch the bridge of my nose and I sigh, "Late J.C. I'm sure you know where I'm going when I die, but I think I should tell you that I've always kind of believed in you… even if that water to wine shit is a little unbelievable."

I grab the .45 hidden in the pantry and head to the door. "Who is it?"

A deep voice sounds back. "We are Guardians of the Ninth requesting permission to speak to Margaret Fernandez and Dee."

_Shit._"May I ask the reason behind your request?"

A new voice, a somewhat gruff one, now speaks, "We would like to discuss that inside."

Reminded of why I like old people, I smirk. "I'll let you in. But I'm holding onto my .45 because I'm sure you are here to kill me."

"So be it."

I open the door with the .45 for both to see. I notice they're wearing nice suits. Visconti, the older one in front of me, is wearing an Armani I saw in a magazine recently. He walks in first, checking his oil slicked hair with a calm hand gesture. We lock eyes and nod good afternoon nods. The other I've read as Ganauche III, eyes the gun, then me with his deep blue eyes while I just admire those good looks: scruffy face, nice teeth, sharp eyes, and great shoulders. I let my wide smile stay as I declare in Italian, "The gun isn't leaving. Make your choice."

The good looking guy eyes me again. "Would you like me to leave?"

I note his almost overly serious voice. _Turn off._ I chuckle in amusement. "It's okay if you don't, but only 'cause I've decided that I like the old guy."

The extremely tall guy walks with his perfect posture in my house. Nice butt, yet I want to laugh at the fact that he pretty much towers over me. I really hate that my natural reaction to everything is laughter. Then realizing that both men tower me in height, body mass, infamy, and probably charm—I really do laugh.

I feel their eyes questioning me.

I chuckle more. "Death comes to my door; I welcome it in and realize that it's better than me."

Ganauche's looks at me like I am weird and Visconti smirks.

I then ask, "Well, are you guys hungry? I was just about to make some tacos… But we can just stick to coffee—if you guys wanna stay professional. I understand."

The aged man responds, "Thank you for the offer, but we should probably stay professional."

_Dammit. I was really gunning to eat right now. _"Then I hope you guys don't mind instant."

I was pretty sure that food was not going to fly for them, but I felt like asking all the more. I also can't show them I'm scared. That would be their win and my utter defeat in what ever reason they have shown their selves here today. But it is my fear keeping me cautious; _I can live through this. I will live through this_. My eyes dart between the Mafiosi; _I refuse to die._

My noisy heels and audible voice echo inside the wall-less expanse as I lead the guardians to my kitchen and sit them at the large breakfast bar. With the two men sitting in my kitchen, I do the only thing I can do: set the gun aside and play hostess. I make them coffee, ask them how they want it, and make sure it tastes right. The two sit and enjoy the instant concoctions with similar reactions. Unreadable. Good thing neither of them requested sugar. I definitely would've called that one a pansy. Even I (a lady) drink my coffee without sugar.

Actually, I wouldn't say shit… but I would be thinking it.

After making a cup for myself and taking the first drink, I set it down and take a deep breath. Calm, poised, and speaking in Italian for them, I ask in a deliberately brief fashion, "Excuse my uncouth tongue, but why the fuck are you two here?"

Both stop. Ganauche stops mid-sip. Visconti stops mid-cup rise. The oldest man in the room gently places his cup on the black countertop. I glance at the cup that says _I (heart) pop quizzes_ and feel the desire to laugh again.

"Why do you think we are here?"

Though there is a part of me that really wants to just duke it out with this grandpa, seeing who can keep up the question tactic until they get pissed, I just decide to muster up all the seriousness my soul possesses.

"To be honest, my head is brimming with reasons. One is that my boss and yours don't get along very well. Another is that I am impersonating as a teacher—in your boss candidate's class—for reasons related to work. And I could go on and on about all the more reasons, but I'm feeling more inclined to compliment your boss on his choice of Guardians to come over and most likely kill me."

Ganauche sets his yellow Charlie Brown cup down as he questions, "Compliment?"

I get comfortable, slipping off my heels and losing four inches. Both of their heads tilt downward to my drop, and the sight is another amusing thing that the day has brought. Still not as amusing as Tsunayoshi's expression was when he read that note I left on his test:

_Just give up and drop out kid, you'll never make it… _

On the other side of the paper I wrote that I was kidding.

I make an exaggerated snort and blink before responding, "Oh yeah, your boss is good. It just so happens that I love old people. I also love eye candy."

Neither says shit. So I go on.

"So let's just get to the point. Why are you here?"

The two men look at each other, and Ganauche covers his mouth right as he clears his throat lightly. "The Ninth would like for us to escort you and Margaret Fernandez to him. He requests your audience."

I'm glad I'm not wearing those heels anymore, or holding that hot coffee for that matter. My dumb ass would've messed up somewhere. Being free of both constraints, I coolly lean on the cold counter and respond only with, "Uh-huh…"

We three partake in a moment of silence. It's a good one where everyone is down to be silent, so the eerie drip of my leaking faucet is fully exemplified. I love it. I wish Ashton Kutcher would come out and say I'm being _Punk'd_. But the terrible actor never shows, and I'm still left feeling like this is a joke. After all, they did not even answer my question.

"You realize me meeting your boss will for sure get me killed if I am discovered."

They only stare.

"And you realize Margaret Fernandez has nothing to do with anything related to The Mafia, Assassins, and all those dangerous things?"

They still stare.

I look up to the textured white ceiling and shake my head. Then I look at Visconti and answer with, "Sorry Visconti, sir, but you're Boss' request is too much of a risk for the life I'm trying to lead."

I refuse to be rude to old people, but I'm pretty sure the other guy is kind of around my age. So I feel no qualms in deliberately ignoring him. Of course, both men only stare at me with serious expressions. After glancing into Ganauche's very blue orbs, I lock eyes with the old man for a few moments and realize that I pretty much have no choice.

I sigh. "Please excuse me, as I have a phone call I need to make."

As one hand slips into the pocket of my black pencil skirt, the other rakes through the locks of my short, dark brown hair. Four sly taps on the glass encased phone, and my cousin is dialed. I stare at the screen, gazing upon a picture she told me to delete. I remember her whining about how much she hated it; to hell with her teenage standards.

The phone stops the ringing tone, and I hear her voice. "Alana?"

Despite my natural desire to chide her for saying my super legitimate name, I just answer her in English, "Who else would it be?"

She sticks to Japanese. "I don't know, Santa Clause?"

I just raise a brow to her unneeded sarcasm and get to the point. "You're friends came over."

"I don't have any friends."

I let loose a small to chuckle and notice the two men in my kitchen are paying close attention. Though I'm unaware of the languages they speak, I'm glad that I leave the volume on my phone low. I'd be an idiot to think both are lost by my English.

Before I can say any more, she speaks again in her still Americanized _Japan-speak_. "I'm with Yamamoto-san right now. I'll get home A.S.A.P."

_Wait. She's with him? When did they become friends?_ My unfixed stare, slides. "Cool. Toodle loo."

I gingerly place the phone aside as my eyes slide to the men in front of me. "Do excuse that please."

Ganauche and Visconti wave off my phone call and politely wait for me to tell them the news, as if they both are not fluent to English. Their cordial lies are ones I will allow since they are just following protocol. I relay what I know and ask them to be patient. The two agree, and I serve them up a second cup. I then look at my small green watch and notice they have only been here but forty minutes. Time flies when you're having fun, as my grandma used to say. I dwell on the thought until my black phone vibrates on the cold granite. The caller ID says her real name, so I swiftly grab it and answer. Mia holds no patience. "Alana," she asks again, this time her tone seeming a little edgy.

"Yes, Mimi." I say unconsciously, but instantly regret the rookie mistake. I do not let my self-aggravation show to the suit-wearing Mafiosi in front of me.

"Are people really over?"

"There are," I claim confidently. My eyes hone in on the guests as I continue. "One is a strapping lad in a suit, and the other is an older but also strapping fellow in a suit. They work for the Ninth Vongola Boss and are here to escort us to him. I hope your hair is already brushed."

I really hope her hair brushed.

"It's not."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading.<strong>

word count: 2,292 (chapters will be longer)  
>[I also do not own any KHR characters]<p>

If you like this story, you should read _And there I live among the Clams_ by Ausumist  
>same story, Mia's POV<p>

.Captain.


	2. Finding Familiar Fish

**Chapter 1: October 12 **  
>(a month before)<p>

There is something about the scent of old cars that I always find interesting. Sitting inside my 84' Toyota Landcruiser, shifting gears as I head for home, I sniff the musky scent of the car again. It's been two weeks since I smelt it last, and I have only five minutes to smell it any more. So I take another deep sniff as the night slightly hides me from the public. Driving down the main city road, I quickly shut off my lights and turn onto the familiar unmarked dirt road. Many would find it crazy for a car to drive onto shrine land at this time of night. Then again, many don't know how to bargain with the head of the Hibari family… I don't really get how I convinced him either.

But still, I somehow convinced the old man and was allowed to build my house on this small mountain in the middle of town. Flipping my headlights on again, I whip around the crazy turns of the beaten path and avoid the trees that guide. I wonder when I will have to return his favor?

_Staring the steely-eyed man down, I feel ghosts crawling up my back. Those eyes are as scary as my boss', but I refuse to show my fear. I only stare intently._

_I'm not sure if this is bravery or foolishness yet._

_"I will let you build there on one condition," says the head Hibari, sitting in front of me comfortably and sipping sake out of one of those tiny sake cup things. His eyes that were closed, open, and my natural urge of flight stirs._

_Kneeling properly, I only continue to stare. "And that is?"_

_"Where the condition lies, depends on the wind's dance… I will call upon you then. Leave."_

Thinking back on that hair-rising encounter, the drive to my house goes by faster than usual. The trees blur past until they abruptly spread. I smirk to the paved semi-circle driveway hidden by the night. The old tan SUV, more fitting for African safaris, rumbles and bumbles on the concrete, parking in front of a simple entry way. The night all around is hiding it well, but I know of the house that sits in front of me. To the west, my contemporary house only reaches two stories, but the left peaks above three. The left is really the better side. That side has the badass panoramic window.

My phone buzzes and bings from a text, and I check it before leaving the car. It's from my boss, confirming the hit and notifying me of the payment being transferred. As my hand pushes the steel door shut, I raise a brow. "Whoa. That payment is awful high…" I decide to respond back.

[From Dee] Thanks for the bonus?  
>[Jones] That was partial payment for your next job.<p>

Looking at the iPhone in my hand, my stomach drops. Partial payment is usually given for those _spend this shit while you're still alive_ kind of jobs. My fingers are swift to reply while my feet tread towards two bright lamps ahead.

[Dee] Partial payment?  
>[Jones] An encrypted file with the details has been sent. I will follow up tomorrow.<p>

I stare at the phone in one hand while I begin to bite my clenched fist. The hand drops to my side again, and a deep sigh rolls past my lips. The two guiding lights now show me a black door that I know is locked. The keys in my hand jingle distastefully; _I just get home from one job and get this shit?_

"Well fuck me running."

* * *

><p>Sitting in some local restaurant, I take another bite of my rice. In my peripheral, Mia, my cousin and only family, is sitting across from me in the small fluorescent shop and fidgeting. Her squirms don't bother me in the least, but she will have to deal. Not even her chopstick snapping will speed up my slow eating style.<p>

I'm guessing because I refuse to hasten my eating, she begins to tell me about another one of her _Namimori Middle School Adventures_. Hmm, maybe that isn't the way to phrase it, since I do find them interesting. As I think this, gesturing her to go on with my chopsticks (food in my mouth), I hear the rosy cheeked girl say, "And now I have a brain tumor."

_What?_

We both laugh, but she laughs harder. Our naturally boisterous voices echo for all the other customers to hear. Seeing everyone stare at us makes me laugh harder. Then I choke on my bite, rather, I swallow it hard. With ease my voice groans of the pain, and I groan more to my drink that doesn't help the process. Our laughter continues all the way until we leave the restaurant. Now pushing the cold, windowed door open, my throat doesn't really hurt anymore.

Despite my better feeling throat, the both of us grow silent. We promenade with loose lips that surprisingly aren't leaky at the moment. I'm not too sure why Mia is being so quiet, but I'm just thinking how my legs feel in these jeans. They swish funny. But outside of our unusual silence is the sound of our feet. Neither one of us is tromping like children, but Mia's white Keds and my big brown boots lightly grit against the city's sidewalks. Actually, my jeans are swishing kind of loud too. They are the only sounds keeping us in the mesh of the city.

Ten minutes come and go meandering down the side-walked streets, and I'm not too sure what we're actually doing. My eyes start to dance around the block, taking in little things like garbage, people, alcohol, and flowers. Pretty much stuff I can smell easily. The night is alive in the city, and music is wandering like the smiling marionettes around me. The people walk aimlessly through the night, like we do, only to be tugged by their strings.

I look at a girl talking to the guy next to her._ "Ah, I got to go. It's almost my curfew."_

Then I start thinking about home. I need to get home soon too; there's that hit Jones wants me to review. After a glance to the starless sky (_thank you, light pollution_), my gaze turns back to Mia. The big-boobed girl, a few inches taller than me and probably smarter than me, is almost prancing alongside me. Her long, brushed hair is kind of swaying too. It's cute in a retarded way.

I'm glad the strings of life don't restrain her. She lives a pretty easy life with me: rent free, rule free, and almost chore free. All I've ever made her do is learn Japanese. I also make her go to school, but that shit is necessary. I've learned my lesson as a high school dropout. Not knowing math sucks.

But my recent purchase of an iPhone is making me smarter every day. I pat my right butt pocket where the phone is currently sleeping; _Steve Jobs is totally my nigga._

After I make some mental shout outs to my homie from another block, my mind trails to far-flung memories of a life I can't ever go back to. Those good ole days, where I went to school and didn't kill people for godly cheap prices. The rest of my family may think of me as dead now, but it's nice that I have Mia. God knows how the hell I found her in Florida, seeing as we are from Texas, but everyone's life is an adventure. I'm not a person to prod; she will tell me if she wants.

Still walking, I stop, realizing Mia is tripping. I can hear her clothes flitting and her feet stamping in a weird way. She even blurts out her signature, "I'm okay!" Unwilling to turn and check, I just force my eyes to try and look back as far as they can. I don't see her, but I do see someone else.

"Whoa, that's that Hibari kid." I mumble to myself like some kind of crazy person. But my pace slows slightly slower as the black haired teen passes. Those blue eyes are glaring at the world, his body emanates in extreme bloodlust (like his dad), and he walks faster than crackheads hobbling towards a 'Free Food' sign. I just watch the kid—who wears his jacket like a cape—zip down the road.

_Man, I wish I could get away with doing something so cool._ I start imagining myself rolling down the streets like a "G" with my jacket like a cape, doing ridiculous gangster stuff (tossing skittles and saying _taste the rainbow, bitches!_). Then I notice Mia is walking next to me.

I almost jump from her reappearing, but I'm not a sissy. So I don't. I play her reappearance off like I knew what she was doing all along. Now speeding up, I silently nod to my retarded amazingness._ I don't think she noticed._ We walk a few more feet when she asks, "Where are we going?" I now for sure know she didn't notice how she surprised me. Of course, I also don't really know where we are going either, so I just don't answer. But kicking about these almost empty streets, I do know that there is bloodlust burning like wildfire in this city; _that pretentious Hibari kid can't be the only one aiming to kill tonight_. I keep my eyes cautious to hide my pounding heart.

The lust is infectious.

The two of us trot a little farther until I smell it. It's rank; it's rancid; it's raunchy; it's rabidly running rampant: Armpit Sweat. The scent stings my nose and causes my face to twist to an expression of nauseated disgust. The shit even causes shivers to course through my veins. To hell with my sense of smell. Fuck it to hell!

I sneer in English, "That is goddamn gross. Someone needs some fucking deodorant."

My eyes close and nose continues to burn. It's as disgusting as cigarette smoke, cinnamon, the sweat of a drug-addict, bad sushi, and dirty diapers of a one-year old. I can hear Mia laughing and reiterating my insult amusingly. Even with my eyes closed, I can see that big smile plastered on her face. I guess it was funny._ I wish it was funny for me._ Now my mind is replaying how my cousin's head slightly tilts back to her open mouth smile while my ass is stuck walking around with a nose in pain.

She keeps laughing while we move, and I still can't find it funny, but it doesn't stop me from smiling while I respond. "No dude, I'm serious. It fucking smells."

This terrible smell and the bloodlust are all I need for the night. They are both leaving me with this awkward desire to kill this stinky person with a stick of deodorant. I'm sure it can be done somehow. My mind starts wandering on the possible ways to do it until Mia finally inquires, "What is it?"

"Someone has a serious case of B.O."

"I hate when that happens."

Seeing that I have no choice, I unplug and take a deep sniff; feel the burn and desensitize. The night is a little cold and clear, so the direction it's coming from is easy to discern, rather, the smelly person is easy to track down. In front of us. Scent is slow to travel, but long to linger. My radar sniffs again, and I start assuming it's coming from up high. My eyes aim to the sky.

_That looks weird…_

Ahead of us are things hopping roof to roof. It's not hard to keep an eye on them since there are slight pauses between their hops. Despite their slow pace from back here, I'm still impressed. The space between the roofs is like shit you see in The Matrix.

My glance darts to Mia, and then back to the flying forms. An assassin got marked and is in the process of being terminated is what I'm assuming. The ability to move so limitlessly is a skill of few. I'm not even that great at it yet. Still slightly amused with how far they both can jump, I keep watching. _To be curious, or not to be curious?_ I shake my head;_ it's not my business._

"I'll be right back!" Mia runs off looking to the sky.

"Shit." I run behind her to keep up.

Mia runs wildly, her body bolting in free flow. I only follow at my steady-trained pace. The closer we get to the scene, the more I can feel Mia's presence. Little does she realize, her excitement is what many refer to as _bloodlust_. Those aches in your bones, the tension in your joints for instantaneous movement, the boil in your blood, and that smile you can't rub off. She has it all, and I can feel it.

You can't blame her. Now within a good viewing distance, you can tell both opponents are good. They're people I wouldn't mind fighting with; I love the thought of how dangerous it seems. One guy with flowing white hair jumps towards a smaller figure, and the sounds of clashing weapons lightly echo over the sounds of the city. Part of me really wants in on this.

My body shrugs, and I feel my sheath rub against my shifting spine. I like it on my back. It makes _her_ feel like she is only an extension of me. Watching the smaller figure defend himself from a tall figure with white hair makes my curiosity and lust grow more, but I only feed them when Mia moves. In any other instance I would just walk away. I already made the decision to walk away, but I can't let Mia get too close to this alone. So I keep watching the two leap about in their death dance.

We wander closer and find ourselves pretty deep in the storm. We are only asking to be seen, considering how we are both radiating the kill-vibes. But the two fighters don't react to us and only continue yelling and carrying on. They're speaking Italian. The tall one with white hair is asking what the shorter one is doing here. As bad as this situation looks for us, we the eavesdroppers, I don't want to leave. One of them looks familiar. The memory is rings more clearly the more that long-haired one screams. His audibility is astounding.

A little closer, I see that murderous grin and the infamous black uniform.

Nefarious.

"Oh shit." I grab Mia's wrist.

"Hey!" She yells with a haughty glare. She yanks her wrist from my grip. "What's your problem?"

Her tone is pretty shocking; I'm pretty much taken aback. But seeing how she holding her arm gingerly, I must have grabbed her really hard. I'm usually good about restraining myself, but taking a glance at that very familiar guy has left me feeling uneasy. I know this is a situation that requires all of my capabilities—to just survive. "Dude. It's time to go. This is not the place to play _peanut gallery_." This is a _get the fuck out or die_ one.

A frown appears, and then a mocking tone appears too. "What the hell is a peanut gallery?" Then her head shakes as if she no longer cares. "You can go, but I'm going to stay here."

I let my tone get terse. "Nuh-uh. You see that white-haired motherfucker up there?" I point to the infamous Varia member. "The guy in all black like he's from the Matrix, or some shit? He's not some guy who plays swordfight for the hell of it. He's like me, but worse. **He is not someone you follow around for fun.**"

The less she knows about this shit, the less that can hurt her. But her dumb ass is like those stupid fish that follow the bright lights. "I'm going to stay," the girl says, full of sass. I can't stand sass. I'm about really clue her in as to why I'm against this in detail, but am cut off. "You can go, but I'm going to stay—at a distance."

I can't stand being interrupted either. The sound of my teeth grinding echoes in my head. She only shrugs her shoulders, pissing me off more. Little does she realize, she picked a bad time to piss me off—I'm ready to kill someone. She's standing right in front of me.

_Just one quick draw. Kidney, carotid artery, eye socket, stomach…_

Loyalty is a word that my vocabulary deleted a while ago.

One sigh to desist my thoughts, two wrist rolls to listen to them crack like pop rocks, and three seconds pass as I finally mutter, "I'm not going to leave you by yourself."

"Then don't." My head is tilted up, watching a lovely grin break through her arrogance. "Come on, this is pretty exciting shit."

How can I be excited watching the guy that almost killed me? Feeling my back cringing to the memory, I smirk and let out a laugh. "You're an asshole."

My cousin gives a little more of that teenage bravado, giving me a catty reaction to her win. Why she loves to argue for the sake of arguing is beyond me, but I figure that I will get to be the asshole that says _I told you this would happen_ when shit gets heavy. _This shit will get heavy._

My stare averts to the rooftop we are standing on. Everything visual blurs as I my back continues to tense up, as if the cold wind is causing it. The future dead kid screams out in Japanese, but I'm not paying enough attention to hear. Those swords, spetas, their clangs are making my adrenaline rush to ridiculous highs. I remember feeling them slash down my back. I remember falling to the wet, grassy ground. I was in pain, but I was content. I had sacrificed myself for my best friend.

_Wow, I sound so fucking lame_; like one of those super retarded shounen manga. I look to the sky and naturally start shaking my head no to my lame thoughts. Well, the fact that El was the dude I was having casual sex with makes it less retarded, but the real retard is the guy who didn't cut deep enough to kill.

_Stupid ass._

_He needs a haircut._

Mia's bloodlust begins to soar, and she starts fidgeting in goofy ways. I watch her for a moment, before looking at the fight once more. The Varia man parries and the boy with something oddly blue on his forehead blocks it. Where have I seen something like that? I inspect more, thinking about the smaller one's forehead being weird. Then the Varia guy slashes, making the evading boy almost fall off the roof, but the smaller guy saves himself by a last minute grab of the building's edge. That Varia guy must still slice shallow, if this kid is able to dodge like this.

_That shit will get him killed eventually._

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading.<strong>

word count: 3,367  
>[I do not own any KHR characters]<p>

If you like this story, read And there I live among the Clams by Ausumist  
>same story, Mia's POV<p>

.Captain.


	3. Unclear Decisions

**Chapter 2: October 13th**

"Ahem… Excuse me?"

I snap my eyes open to the foreign voice. It's a man, average man, dressed in middle class work clothes. Nice fabric. Thin-rimmed glasses and average features. To sum him up: a plain Jane middle-aged Asian. He's looking at Mia and I weirdly. There are a couple random people behind him. One of them calls us stupid foreign bums.

"Yes?" I sit myself up in a half-assed fashion. Mia wakes up from it.

He adjusts his glasses. "Can I ask why you're on our roof?"

"Uhh… Why wouldn't I be?" I like to answer people in questions. Their reaction gives me insight.

"Uh, well, you see…" He scratches his head. _Nervous, weak minded, doesn't have much wit. 20,000 yen says he's an accountant._

He finally comes up with his explanation. "At our firm, we aren't really comfortable with…"

While he tries to think of to explain his company not liking foreign bums on their rooftop, I take a sniff of the air around me. I ponder if those two are near us still. It's surprising how they went on fighting for so long. Well, not really. I remember a few similar situations, none of them being too fun to experience. But with the sniff is the smallest trace still, the body odor that I realized belonged to one of them. My eyes check the sun for my position.

The man is saying something, but I'm not a fan of people sugarcoating shit to me. It's like nicely lying to someone; lying isn't a good character trait. That's why I only lie about stupid shit that doesn't matter. So I interrupt and answer for him.

"Foreign bums? It's cool." I stand my aching body up. "We have somewhere to be."

Mia looks up to me, but it seems that she knows exactly what I mean.

The accountant is rubbing his hands together nervously and looking for a response.

I point to the door behind the spectators. "That's the exit, correct?"

"Yes it is, but—"

"Thanks, we'll use it only for a moment."

Without even giving a second thought to his aversion, I walk towards the metal door with my quick stride. My hand yanks the door open to exit, and I let Mia pass through first. I'm not too sure if Mia can jump roofs like I can, but I'm not about to do it in front of civillians. It's not smart and not safe, especially in broad daylight. I also need to go pee. I can't do any kind of hopping until the morning piss has come and gone.

While the both of us bounce down the steps quickly, I check the scarf around my neck and my phone. I also take the moment to tell Mimi that I still have their scent. The pee reminds that it's not okay with my bouncing down the stairs, so I slow my roll and continue my check. The scarf is hiding my chains awesomely, and I still have the email from Jones to looks at. I'll have to go home to check it soon.

Mia pushes the front door open. She looks dead to the world, saying nothing.

I look up to the sky, trying to remember my positioning when I caught the sweaty scent. I sniff and speak. "It was coming from southwest." I point to my 10 o' clock. "Towards the house."

_How convenient._

We start our trek home. I make sure to stop for coffee.

I take a piss there—and find no toilet paper.

Fuck my life.

_Thank god I got that coffee._

The hot liquid slides down. No milk, no sugar—just creamer. It's a little lighter than my skin, but the warm brown liquid kicks my system into gear. Mental and nasal reset complete. My eyes close while I walk. I'm savoring the flavor, the release. The hairs on my scalp are rising, and my mind is running full speed on thoughts of to do's and want to do's. Mia walks silently next to me as I run my mental marathon silently. I mumble things out loud occasionally. They're extraneous thoughts at mach speed, wasting no breath on proper annunciation or pause between words. Only my sister could understand me in the morning when I spoke like this.

Now my morning speech is Latin to all.

Our feet trample. We trek towards the house. I can smell the kid, the B.O. kid with a metal boomerang, getting closer. I can even smell that we're encroaching on that Varia leader with his speta, but I'm not so interested anymore. I know better than to get involved with the Varia; I've seen a few die that way. I've almost died getting too close to them. Jones has told us to stay away from them, for now.

Crossing the street, I look both ways and get further lost in my thoughts. _Jesus Christ it's been a long time since I've seen him. What's his name again? Shit… I know it starts with an S. It doesn't matter; I just hope he doesn't remember me._ I doubt he does—meeting him was almost three years ago. His hair was a lot shorter then. It was a little shorter than mine is now. That white hair of his was right at his shoulder. Mine is at my collarbone.

"I bet that shit is a bitch to brush."

Mia looks at me.

Nothing more is said.

At the next crosswalk is a wait. My feet stay firmly planted, but my hips are jarred forward with my arching back. It feels good. Mia and I stand, waiting for the cars pass. Then I hear it. I feel it. I see him. A little boy with an afro wig and a cow print onesie is running. Mia and I are right at the edge of the sidewalk, and he's about to step out. Crouch, twist, sweep. The little boy is laying stomach-down on my forearm as the bus whizzes past us. His green eyes are wide and surprised to the dirty wind blowing past us. His arms and legs wrap around me tight.

I whisper in his ear softly. "Where's your momma?"

He looks at me slightly scared. "Maman is at home while I play with Tsuna and Stupidera."

After a chuckle, I then ask, "Well Stupidera doesn't sound like someone reliable, so where is Tsuna?"

The boy switches to smug. "Lambo-san is a superhero. I don't need stupid Tsunas or Stupideras."

I grin. "Oh really?"

Then behind me, is the sound of peoples running feet. "Uwah! Lambo!" "Stupid cow!" "Lambo~!"

My eyes slide to the direction of the search party. Three schoolboys, two school girls, and two toddlers. One of the boys looks worried, but they all smell like raging hormones. Pheromones running rampant—alluring me. My stupid fucking nose.

I hate being around pubescent boys; they confuse me and make me feel disgusted with myself. I can smell the boy pheromones, and I can't help but be drawn. They do exactly what their job entails, and my nose tells me that being attracted is okay.

Thank god my mind knows better, as does my eyes.

The five students that look around Mia's age come, take the boy, and give me thank yous. One of them just glares at me with pretty green eyes and silver hair. I shrug my shoulders to him and get back to my agenda-less life. The light finally allows us to pass; we all pass together.

With every step over the painted white lines comes realization. The scents from last night are getting stronger, my eyes getting more cautious. I decelerate and allow the group of truant school kids to walk ahead of us. Three of them are the same height as me and two are taller than me. Figures, it's a rare day that I see someone shorter than me. While I'm on this thought, one of the toddlers turns back to look at me.

I stop. Pacifier. Pacifier on a little baby in a suit.

I blink. It's still there. I mumble out sarcastically,"That's not weird."

_Stay away from suspicious looking toddlers that have pacifiers strung around their necks, said my sociopathic boss._

I look over to Mia and start walking again. She still looks dazed out from our bad sleeping location. Her hair is slightly messy and her clothes are wrinkled too. My curiosity peaks, and I inspect to find that my clothes are looking similar. My shoulders shrug; I go for the bum look, so I'm fine.

As we wander down the main road of the business district, I notice we're getting pretty close to where I left my bike last night (by the restaurant). _Is it still there?_ My eyes dart around the crowds around us. _Probably._ Thinking more on my cafe racer while walking, I catch the sight of my favorite nail place. They look relatively empty. Prime time.

I look at my nails, then at Mimi. "Hey I'm going to go get my nails done. You coming in?"

She gives me a disgusted look. She's obviously got other plans. "Umm, okay. I'm going home for a shower. I want to brush my hair too."

I nod. "Cool. We'll meet up later."

She keeps walking southwest, and I turn southeast. Mia's presence disappears with the doors ringing bell, and my worry for her disappears to the instant high I'm getting. Acetone equals awesome equals buzzed equals thoughtless equals awesomer which correlates to the final product of beautiful fingers and toes. I love the time I spend in the nail house every two weeks. My mind is too wild for drugs, but a silly high from nail polish remover is cool. I watch the beauticians all look over to me.

One speaks. "Can we help you?"

"Is Sukiyama-san available?"

"She's waxing someone's eyebrows right now."

I look in a mirror. "I'm willing to wait."

"Okay, then what do you need."

Shit, I need my brows done too. "Refill pink and whites, pedicure, and eyebrow wax."

Like magic I'm whisked from the front door to a massage chair while a jetted foot-tub soaks my aches away. I still have my weapon on me, so getting a massage is out of the question. Sukiyama comes out, sees me, and immediately asks where I've been. I dramatize my tale of the terrible nail ladies in Russia while she cleans my toes up. It leads me to explaining that I was there on business. Sukiyama thinks that I work in politics. I don't consider it far from the truth—the Russian was a politician.

You could say Jones is a politician too. He rules with an iron fist. I'm one of his delegates that give representational speeches to those who oppose him. The opposition is a party that is declining in terms of heads.

Just as I'm about to ask Sukiyama about how her daughter's birthday was, I'm stopped. It is a ringtone from a phone, Godfather Theme. Jones. Speak of the devil. I answer.

"Yes."

His low voice bellows. "What is your choice?"

I question. "My choice?"

"From the file I sent."

I sigh. "I haven't gotten the chance to look at it yet."

_Sukiyama lightly smacks my legs and smiles to me. "Relax sweetie."_

_I give her a warm smile and nod._

"That's not my problem. Pick: one, two, or three."

I take a deep breath. Out of the three options, three has always seemed like the safest number. One can never survive alone. Two is cocky because they think they are invincible in a pair. Three is safe and stable; able to provide checks and balances to each other and able to remain realistic. I always choose three. My eyes close to the hands massaging my calves.

"Three."

There is a pause. "Heh, good to hear."

[Beep Beep Beep]

I look at my phone. He hung up. Three obviously was not the best choice.

While looking at my phone, I catch the Sukiyama painting my nails in my peripheral. That blue was a good choice. My finger taps on the home screen to check the weather when it buzzes. A preview of the text appears at the top of the screen, a friend. I'm hoping he has good news, but his news is definitely something that cannot be discussed right now. I would like to do the same for Jones, but Jones remains pretty vague on the telephone and doesn't like waiting on others. I tap on the text preview.

[From Stitch] I'm cold. You got some socks to spare?  
>[Dee] Let me finish my laundry. I'll give you a pair then.<br>[Stitch] You got a lot of loads?  
>[Dee] Not sure yet, but it shouldn't take too long to get done.<br>[Stitch] K

The phone is put back in my butt pocket and I abruptly rub my face with my hands. Too much is going on at once. My hands still smell like the cigarette smoke from the roof. I move them away immediately. Another deep sigh blows past my lips, and I feel Sukiyama smack my legs again. I open my eyes and smile.

"Hn?"

"You're toes are done."

I look at them. "Ah. I like em'. That color turned out awesome."

"Yes. It did." She stands and grabs my boots. "So what do want to get done next?"

* * *

><p>"By the way, what's your name?"<p>

I look to Mimi. She's holding a silver bracelet. "Desma Martinez."

Her head tilts. "Uh, why can't we just call you Dee? I mean it's not your real, real name after all."

Stupid. I can understand why she would think this, and it's a logical question, but the answer should be obvious. Flat out telling them my name is Dee gives them a way to find me—in a couple ways. My work name for Jones is simply Dee. But giving him that, he was able to find the real me. That's a mistake I won't make again. Still looking at her curious expression, I can't tell if she's waiting for an answer. I look away while taking a deep breath. "Because, Dee is my 'work name' and my middle name. I can't have either going around."

She doesn't respond and walks away. This piques me slightly but I shrug it off. Mia has a thing for jewelry. I also know that she's not the only reason I'm getting irritable. I sniff again, smelling that armpit sweat still. I shift my back faintly to reassure myself. The sheath lightly scratches my crawling back. The bloodlust is heavier now than ever.

I don't like it.

I don't like it at all.

I want in.

To keep from looking weird, my hands start idly fumbling around in a bowl full of cell phone charms. Of course, this is a dumb action considering my phone doesn't do cell phone charms. But my face tilts towards the bowl while my fingers feign a thorough search for the lucky winner. My eyes are watching the ignorant crowd. I'm looking for a reason to get Mimi and I out of here. The tricky part is making it seem like I'm not trying to tell her what to do. She's still in that angsty part of life where 'you can't tell her nothin.'

_I really want to go, and it really isn't that far, I argue to my Dad._

_His bright blue eyes pierce me as he says, I'm not letting you drive three hours away for one concert._

_Jeez Dad, you're such a fucking ass. You let me have no life, I snarl to the sick man while marching to my room._

_He makes a point to shift his weight and sass me. Well I can't tell you nothin' can I?_

"I can't believe that was the last thing I said to him." I mutter silently.

My hand pulls away from the luckless bowl and my arm feels a touch. I snap my attention to the person. My expressionless eyes find Mia. Her eyes are blank too, but they change to confused. She's going to ask me something, I'm sure of it. Then her large smile appears. "Uhh, what's wrong?"

My eyebrows rise as my lips frown. I shake my head and respond, "Mmm nothin'." I shake my head.

She flashes a smile again and jars her thumb out. "I'm going to go get a drink."

I look to where her thumb is pointed. Vending machine. I nod. "Cool, cool."

She wanders out, and I instantly shiver. The murderous vibes are getting worse, and the smell of blood is starting to waft in pungent slithers. My eyes turn to the direction. It's too far away to catch with my normal vision. My head shakes, deciding that it doesn't matter. I need to get her and go. I turn on a app that will locate my bike.

"Where's my bike from—"

[CRASH!]

I instantly look to the sound.

One kilometer away. Giant blast zone. Something flies from the dust cloud onto the ground. Then the screams come. Everyone runs. My voice booms, "Margaret!"

Through the crowd I race. My arms push and shove through the rapid river of people. Panic running rampant. My heart is running rampant. Mia is in danger. I mosh, and mosh, and mosh some more. I finally get to the machine. Gone.

"FUCK!"

My gaze now shifts to the crowd in front of me. Ride the flow till I get a safe chance to jump? No. I need to act. My jaw tenses and my teeth grit. "I'll have to trust Mia. She's smart. She'll keep herself safe."

I spring up softly onto a nearby table bolted into the ground and use it to leap onto a shorter building's roof. I need to get an overhead view—a last attempt to find her. My hand grips onto the roof's ledge, and I pull myself the rest of the way up. I glare at my boots—they're impeding me. While searching, I rip the boots off and drop them. My socks slip off too.

Dust starts to spread, washing all the others scents of the place. Scanning around I don't see her, but I definitely see something else. I see two more blasts cascade from the first blast zone towards the thing that flew. Boomerang boy? I snort amusingly to the boy who was flung onto someone. They have a weird moment of chatting each other up. "Achoo!" I sneeze out from the dust everywhere. Then I mumble, "Dammit," because my eyes closed. They snap back open and onto the Boomerang boy with the blue head and stylish hair. From a deeper focus, I can also see others have involved themselves into the fight.

With bare feet I jump farther. The first leap gets me on the same side of the road the fight is taking place. I leap from building to building watching three boys follow the boomerang boy. A tall boy with black hair, a really short brunette, and a guy with gray hair run with the boomerang boy while my eyes search for someone in particular.

"There."

The pacifier.

I see him talking to a girl. _What the fuck is going on?_ The two exchange words only for a moment before the girl, a young teenager, races off into the hysteria. I watch the pacifier kid more, how the stealthily maneuvers in the mayhem like a pro. Not even five seconds have passed and he's moved 100 feet over to a building's corner, where he peculiarly places a bat against the wall and oddly he changes clothes. I crouch myself lower. "This is too organized for kids."

_After Jones chained El and I, my curiosity led me to question him. Don't you think we are a little young to be pulled into this kind of life?_

_I recruit young. The younger you are, the quicker you adapt._

Shit… These kids are like me.

* * *

><p>The trees lightly shake to my split-second touches. I saw enough, I'm curious enough, but business comes first. My feet continue to dash through the tree branches. That shit that happened in town was interesting, no doubt, but right now I need to get home. Mia might have gone home, but I'm guessing she hasn't. I haven't seen her since she left to that damn vending machine.<p>

I look ahead and see it, the valley. My foot taps the last branch and my body lunges forward. I roll, rise, and run forward. This is the final stretch to my house. It takes a minute to get across the expanse. A quick glance is given to the pool, a slight gander is given to the giant window revealing the whole house, and no attention is given to the stairs that lead up to the side entrance. I quickly open the greenhouse door and enter. Six steps in the warm, glassy room lead me to another door. I cross the threshold and find myself in the area between the kitchen and living room. The stairs are to my right.

"Mia!"

I call despite the fact I can already tell she isn't here. No music being played, no TV on high, and no smell of popcorn or cookies or even eggs. The sound of my voice echoes inside the house again. It travels without a sound in response. My eyes close and I sigh. _She's fine. Mia's not stupid._ I wouldn't have found her two states away from home if she weren't smart enough to find her way there. She will be fine.

This is what I keep telling myself as I march to the fridge and immediately grab a beer. Twist, lift, relax. My eyes close to the bite. I repeat—twice.

"I'll give her two hours. Two hours, and then I'll go search for her."

I need to take advantage of her absence—Business.

The fridge door opens again, and I grab a beer to go. After another sip I quickly flit up the steps and an immediate left towards my room. My door opens, my feet do their usual shiver against the concrete floor, but the shoes never drop to their normal place. "Alana, you forgot your fucking shoes."

_I really need to stop talking to myself._

So I strip my pants and sweatshirt instead, keeping comfortable in just the underwear. Once I rest my clothes on the ladder in front of me I finally take notice of the grime on my feet. "Dammit. Not even two hours and I've already fucked up the damn pedicure." My eyes rolls, my lungs sigh and my hands reach for the clasps on my harness. I walk to my desk and place the weapon right next to my laptop. Taps, clicks, and clacks silently stream about the big room that I reside in. An occasional drink tips down my throat while I start decrypting that message from Jones. My foot starts to shake, my lungs start to huff, and my teeth lightly bite on the white tips of my nails. Anxiety and anticipation are absorbed along an alcoholic adagio. With every bite of the brown ale brings the desire to take a piss, but the ability to relax. Done. The decrypted job options displaying. Option ones two and three instantly become a blur.

I grab my hair and tug. My eyes look left to my wide bookshelves. They check the screen again. I shut the laptop.

Option 1: Eleazar Velazquez

Option 2: Mike Belarrizio

Option 3: Both

I grab my phone and instantly dial my friend Stitch. I wait. Voicemail. I dial again. Voicemail. I dial again. Pick up.

"What's up."

"The cold is far from passing, but I have an abundance of socks. Care for a pair?"

"…Hold on… I need to grab a pad of paper for your address... Ready."

With Stitch finishing the scattering our signal from possible eavesdroppers, I immediately ask. "What's your last name Stitch?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?"

I scratch my head and turn towards my bathroom behind me. "Ahh, it can wait. What of everything on your side?"

"I made a clean slice off his pie. I split it 65/35. I caught that casualty on the side's pie too. What do you want to do?"

My hand twists the knob to my sink, and I question whether or not the guy has immediate family. An assassin's salary isn't the greatest, so Stitch and I have come up with our own ways of breaking even. So I slice good chunks out of my marked men's bank account. Assassins don't do their job 'cause the pay is good. Regardless of the fact that they're dead, I can't bring myself to take money from those with wives and children. They have people who need it more than I do. Plus, I just became around 100 thousand euros richer. So my answer is a swift put it back, and his is a simple fair enough.

With a tap on the screen, the phone goes on speaker and my hands lift me onto a white marbled vanity in my bathroom. "You took only a small slice, right?"

"Right under 290."

I dip my dirty feet into the warm rushing water. "Currency?"

"Euro."

I smirk. "Well that's some good news. So what is my cut, like 110?"

He laughs. "More like 188 and some change."

I nod and continue to scrub my feet. "Ah, cool."

"You're terrible at math."

I shrug my shoulders. "What can you expect? I never finished ninth grade."

We both laugh. I know he's laughing because he thinks it's a joke, I laugh because he thinks I'm smarter than I really am. It's probably because I'm always saying random and ridiculous shit with a sarcastic tone. While I glance around the pristine white and chrome bathroom, we keep some jokes going. They're mostly ones with me at the butt of them. I like to diss myself on occassion, as well as anyone else I'm looking at.

I pat my feet down with the towel while he asks, "So why did you ask about my last name?"

My eyes close and a sigh blows into the phone. "This is the bad news."

"So you really do have some socks?"

"Yeah…" I jump off the vanity and leave the tiled bathroom. "I got a partial payment hit."

He doesn't say anything.

"I chose option three before seeing the names—you and El are marked."

I hear him set a glass down. "… This isn't fucking funny Dee."

"Do you hear me laughing?"

The conversation goes sour as I calmly pace back and forth from the desk to the ladder, eventually climbing up the ladder and plopping myself on my bed. First is the explanation of how I more or less chose it in a moment of ignorance. We also talk about why Jones might mark him and El and eventually lead to the thought that I might be marked too. It's messing up the chill vibes of my sleep space, so I climb down and start looking for some clothes to work out in. All this shit is too stressful.

I finally get off and check the time, seeing that Mia still has another hour. One last look at the desk shows my one unopened beer.

I just leave.

_Leave that one for the dead._

* * *

><p>Now standing where my boots dropped are no boots. I growl loudly, "CRAAAAAAP!"<p>

Those were four dollars spent well.

Still feeling the stress and pressure of it all, I simply stare out to where the fight took place. There are newly created craters and crags in the ground and buildings around the area. Police and have wrapped their silly yellow tape around the crime scene. News reporters are telling the masses of the attack on society. I only watch. After seeing that Varia leader take on those kids, watching the Cavallone Family get involved, and hearing rings mentioned, I can't help but infer that I witness some serious family issues.

After working for Jones these last five years, I've learned enough about the families. Varia is a secondary of the Vongola. The Cavallone are affiliated with the Vongola. Rings mean succession. People fighting over rings mean there is shit going on. I only know of one person who could tell me any details. She might have some info on it.

The small taped arena is unmoving and quiet; my mind is all the opposite. It's running full speed on thoughts of where Mia could be, the condition of the bike, the wonder if the helmets are still there, and the hits. There are other little things like hunger, desire for sleep, need of a shower, and the smell of my ear gauges, but none are truly important. Mia is objective one. While turning away from the scene to the back alleyway, I pull my sleeves just under my elbows.

A doorway to the roof opens in front of me. It's Mia.

"Whoa," I declare in English. My eyes dart left and right. "What's up?"

I notice a small scratch on her face as she looks at me stupidly. "The sun, sky, moon, and stars?"

My head shakes to her smartass remark. "Well, besides that, where've you been? And what's with the scrape on your face?"

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "Went to the school since the trains were probably too crowded." Then she instantly switches the subject. "Do you know what happened?"

From here I explain all that I'm aware of. I tell her how three boys in school uniforms got involved with the boomerang boy from last night and fought against the white pretty haired guy. I don't bother getting into family names. All four pretty much sucked against the black trench coated man and were saved by a group of people with a young leader. The guy with white hair takes some rings and the young horse guy leaves two of the uniform kids behind and rushes the boomerang boy to some hospital with his posse. I finish it saying that whatever is going on is pretty serious Mafiosi shit.

"Man," Mia start rubbing the back of her neck while looking elsewhere. "I can't believe I'm this calm."

I only sigh. This is probably something that's hard to swallow. My brows furrow as I realize, all over again, how little she knows about any of this stuff. Her tone is one of exasperation as she says, "Let's just go back to America. Or Britain."

"Ahhh…." I tilt my head left, and then let it sway to the right. "But El finds us every time we go to either one… And I haven't had this house for long… and…" I rub my forehead. "We haven't been found yet. Let's wait till he finds us."

Mia's attention moves away from me as she nods. "Okay then."

While I watch her hair blow in the wind, my mind drifts to El. Eleazar. That guy. The prick. Mr. I will always promise to be better and won't get better. The one who I like to say ruined my life, but that is me being stupid. The wind blows harder, and I watch the sun dance on Mia's long hair. It's pitters, patters, and parlays of light reveal hues of gold and orange in her soft but dark brown locks.

I stop staring at her hair and realize that she is just sitting on the edge of the building, legs dangling freely. My eyes look to the sky as I curse my family for giving me a terrible sense of humor. A grin as wide as the horizon is spreading across my face while I hold in my intense need to laugh loudly. Inside me is the strongest urge to just push her off the edge and watch her freak out.

_Alana, you are seriously fucked up in the head… but that shit would be sooo funny._

Playing the scenario out in my head, I do the hand gesture of pushing (a good half meter away) in real life and start letting out small snorts of laughter. I'm trying hard not to, but the whole thought of it all is just hilarious. The push, the flailing hands, the scream, the comic book 'splat,' and the cartoon-like ending is just really funny. Watching Mia's back, I can tell she isn't questioning my laughter all.

I mutter, "Sorry… I just saw something really funny."

She doesn't say anything.

A minute or two passes, and I finally take a deep breath to compose myself.

"Alana." Mia sounds like she's calling out for me. It's weird.

"Yeah?"

She smiles back. "Let's go ho—aw shit. I left my phone at the school." She groans a little but overall looks constipated.

I shake my head and snort. "Stupid."

My finger taps away on my phone to find where I left my bike as we wander off the roof.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

word count: 5,637  
>[I do not own any KHR characters]<p>

if you like this story, you should read And there I live among the Clams by Ausumist  
>Same story, Mia's POV<p>

I also contains extra parts to the story I don't go over.

.Captain.


	4. Stalking for Sushi

**Chapter 3: October 15th**

There usually isn't a need to be sneaky at six in the morning. Lightly wetted lawns from the morning dew, shopkeepers unlocking windowed doors, and the sleepy sun climbing up the soon to be azure sky. A very pretty morning that is perfect for an early morning , I'm sure there are plenty of people that would question a girl getting out of the driver seat of a car—wearing a middle school uniform. Actually, it is more like a twenty one year old girl that is told she looks anywhere from fifteen to eighteen.

No matter how old anyone thinks I am, I park the car in an alleyway a few blocks from school and I inspect my new Nami-chuu (as some kid in town called it the other day) uniform. It's an item pilfered from Mimi's closet. My hands slide down the pleats and I chuckle to all those years in parochial school: memories.

I casually exit the car after deciding the coast is clear. While I shut my door only enough for it to barely shut, Mia slams hers. The sound makes me cringe. _Why the fuck does she do that? _The sound of anything slamming reminds me of my mother. That wretched woman was always slamming doors. I just shake my head and hope that Mimi will soon get over slamming car doors.

After my body stops blenching from the noise, my eyes gaze down the expanse of the alleyway to Mimi's school a few blocks away. The creamy-colored building starts fading out as I turn to remind the door slammer to lock the door and to call me _Martinez_. She does not even hear me, seeing how she is swaying restlessly. _She did fall asleep on the car ride here, what can I expect?_ I only shake my head.

I worry for her some days, especially after discovering that she does not know how to address a letter. Now I worry a lot.

As we saunter to the campus we talk about little things: all the stuff I recently read in my favorite manga, her TV shows, and other stuff that doesn't matter. It's when we pass the gates that a spider crawls up my back. I get the natural urge to turn around. Bloodlust.

_There is someone here that is seriously out to kill._

But I show no reaction to the vampire as we continue our way to Mimi's class. My accomplice seems to not notice. For some odd reason, Mia seems like she's just radiating in happiness now. Her brown eyes are afire; her steps have a skip about them. Sometimes Mimi is an open book, but sometimes she is a tablet of hieroglyphics. Right now she's walking like an Egyptian. I just lightly snort with a simper and keep walking.

Through the front door and up the stairs we waltz. I sling my never brushed hair into a small bun and feel a good portion slip out. The wispy bangs go right back to where they want to be: all up in my face, 1970s style. I just frown momentarily and keep walking up the flight of stairs.

"Room 2-A," reminds Mia as we hit the second floor.

She looks back for a response. I simply cock my eyebrow and nod. Since my voice is deep for a girl's, I want to refrain from talking. Then I remember that I could, just as easily, talk to her in a higher pitch—like I normally do with strangers.

Higher pitch, stranger, whatever—I rather leave no room for error. So I keep walking behind her and listen to a bell go off. It is probably the sign that the kids need to get their asses to their classes. I shrug my shoulders smugly, proud that I still remember this crap. Mia's confused expression makes me want to laugh; she obviously does not get what is going on.

I keep my asshole tendencies at bay as I listen to her ask, "Why aren't there a lot of people out?"

I totally know the answer to this, thanks to manga. "Most of them come to school early and hang out in their classrooms."

I watch her eyebrows rise in satisfaction. "Okay."

We walk into the classroom, and I begin my scan of the students. Mia said those kids from the crosswalk were in her class, and I am sure the boys we saw then were the same boys that got their asses kicked yesterday. If they are pros they will come to school, keep their public face. My nose scrunches and my lips pucker to one side. No really tall kid with the smile. No silver haired kid with the glare. No pansy looking kid with the face. But one of the girls that were with them at the crosswalk is here: the petite girl with the weak eyes.

Mentally weak or not, she's a cute girl with a sweet looking smile. Short, brunette, and big honey colored eyes. A looker. I watch her talk to another girl in the class and realize she was even blessed with an effeminate voice.

I take another scan of the room before declaring, "They're not here."

Mia smiles in a cheesy fashion. "Maybe they're running late?"

I nod. "Hmm. Maybe."

I doubt it. Kids in Japan are serious about school. Still, I sit in the desk behind Mimi and wait. I'm trying to be _hopeful_. But I haven't ever seen hope accomplish anything. So class starts, and feigned hope is done in vain. No cute Asian. No silver fox. No pansy boy. It's obviously time to go. My eyes shift to the teacher instructing the class on English. I listen to him for two minutes, but stop after realizing that he's confusing me. Then I begin to eavesdrop. There is a small posse of girls talking about another girl sitting in their _precious Gokudera-kun's _seat. After another minute of snooping, I catch on to the fact they're talking about me. I chuckle—women.

There's a reason I can't stand them.

Seeing that I can't find anything else interesting to keep me here, I start thinking of a way out. Ask to go to the nurse? Too obvious, and someone will have to escort me. Just leave? Nah, the teacher will probably try to stop me. Then it hits me. It's the greatest plan ever.

A swipe on my iPhone's lock screen, a tap of an app, and my phone rings.

The teacher stops, looking around as I answer, "¿What's good, Batman?"

I pause for a moment before slamming my hand on the desk and yelling, "¿WHAT? THE PRESIDENT IS IN TROUBLE?"

I take a moment to glare at the class. "Give me five minutes."

Instead of simply running out of the desk, I throw it off of me and run. My hand slams the door open, and I pause. I glare at the teacher. "Your teaching is terrible."

_Good thing I said all of that in Spanish._

I race down the hallway a good ten meters before slowing my stride to a quick walk. I don't need to attract any more attention since I'm already out of the class. I think my profligacy back there will be talked about, but what I did will be talked about more than I will. It works out. _Hakuna Matata._

My smile is a smug one, my feet are almost dancing, my hand grabs the corner as I turn, and my eyebrow cocks to the two Yankee-looking boys now in front of me. They are both in black, and their hair is in some weird jelly roll looking thing that is lamer than the grandma dance. After a second more, I contemplate and conclude that they could easily be background characters in _Beelzebub_.

"What are you doing out of class?" asks one of the Yankee-dressed boys.

My eyes shift left and right. "Uhh, what am I not doing out of class?" Then I point to them. "What are you doing out of class, young men?"

The other one covered in zits decides to talk. "Where's your pass?"

I would answer, but I'm a little distracted by these red bands they have pinned on their arms. They have the word _Prefect_ stitched on them in gold. It's a pretty band with pretty stitching, but I'm confused. _What the hell is a Prefect? _

I'm about to ask this, when the crater face grabs my arm. "We're escorting you back to your—"

I yank my arm away and growl. "Don't touch me."

They pause.

I drop the kill vibes and give them a big smile.

_If one of them attempts to touch me again, I'll fuck them up like Percocets._ Touching me is a no-no. I watch as the two slowly step towards me. They have no intent to fight, but I can sense their aggression. That alone is enough for me to strike. I take my first breath, parting my feet to—my hairs rise—stop.

_Someone is behind me._

My attention instantly averts to a very strong-looking guy turning the corner I just whirled around. He's tall enough to be in the NBA, he has the face of a man (super chiseled jaw), and he has a sprig of grass tucked in the corner of his mouth. _I hope he has an Okinawa accent._

Strong, dark brown eyes look at the two guys in front of me after sparing me a glance. "Is something the matter?"

Damn. No accent. But I see he rocks that same weird hairdo as the two kids in front of me. It must be some kind of Japanese fad going around.

I give him a scared look. "I was trying to go to the nurse, and these guys were touching me…"

Then I step closer to the man with the cleft on his chin. I think he has a whole foot on me (height wise). His dark brown eyes look into mine for a moment before tracing their way to the two boys. Crater face and his sidekick are stammering out how they did no such thing. I just step closer to the guy that walked in on the situation. He looks like he's in charge. He has really kind looking eyes. He smells nice too.

"Kusakabe-san we didn't touch her like she's implying!"

I grip my arm really hard and then point to it. "Then what's this red mark?"

The leader of this band of Yankees, Kusakabe I'm assuming, looks at my arm and then makes the final call. "You two. Reception room. Our Chairman will deal with you there." Then he looks at me. "I'll escort you to the nurse's office."

I smile. "Sweet, thank you kind sir."

Kusakabe and I walk past the two kids I just got in trouble and calmly trot down the steps. Their glares are stabbing my back. I just roll my eyes; like glares are going to hurt me. Crater face is just lucky I didn't pull his eye of its socket. Teach him not to go around and arbitrarily grab people. While the walls spread the word of our movement, there is a bit of silence between the Yankee man and myself. I continue staring at my hand, remembering how it feels to hold someone's eye. It was like holding a hard-boiled egg covered in blood. I clench my fist, like I did back then, until my concentration is broken. The chief Yankee apologizes for the two goons' behavior. I just tell him that he doesn't need to apologize for them. _It is not like they really did anything to me._

Three more minutes of walking and talking with Kusakabe brings to the conclusion that I quite like him. He's a dude very worthy of friendship. Too bad I'm not looking for friends. I shrug my shoulders to the idle thoughts as we get down the long hallway of the second floor. Still giving casual glances to the tall man's spiffy band, I finally gain enough curiosity about the whole 'Prefect' thing. So I just ask.

"Kusakabe-san?"

He looks down at me. "Hn?"

I point to his band. "What's a Prefect?"

His head tilts as if I had just asked him the weirdest question, then he lightly snorts. "You don't know because you just transferred, right?"

"Yeah, something like that." I smile because I only told him it is my first day attending classes here only a moment ago.

"We Prefects are the keepers of the peace and discipline of Namimori."

I nod. "Well that's nice."

He's a man with a cause, that is always a good thing. I'm sure he will make a good boyfriend to some girl (or guy if he rolls that way). I nod once more and officially decide that I like this Kusakabe guy. I will no longer care what anyone says about 'this' Kusakabe standing next to me; he's alright in my book. All the other Kusakabes can go to hell. Of course, like any story with crazy coincidences, after coming to my decision about _Tetsuya Kusakabe, _we find the nurse's office. I make sure to give Super Cleft a farewell high-five for him being him. He simply shakes his head and tries to walk away. The fiasco turns into a fight for a good minute, but I get my damn high five by telling him denying high-fives is an insult to everything American. _No one denies me high fives—that's just sacrilegious._

It's also un-American.

Then I wait. I wait till I see the tall guy, with his black hair in a weird hairdo, walk away. I wait until I can't smell his interesting scent of subtle cologne and old books. The ticking clock in the empty Nurse's office tells me sixty times the coast is clear. My hand silently shuts the office door before I nimbly venture out of Nami-chuu and to the car.

Pushing the double door on the left, I come to another decision: Mimi's school is way cooler than any of mine were.

I think on this a bit as I wait for the traffic light in front of me to turn green. Right when I push the shifter into first gear, I remember something. School was never interesting because I never found any one interesting. The light now turns green and I begin driving on. I wouldn't go back if the opportunity ever came, so there is no sense it reflecting on it. I know this after the opportunity arose at the scene of the wreck. I know this after seeing the newspaper article with a picture of the ravaged car. I know this after breaking into my house to grab my most precious items. I had been waiting for this to happen for God knows how long: the day I could simply vanish.

No longer wanting to think about the past, I start humming along to the radio while thinking about the Vongola stuff more. The fight, the white haired assassin, those kids (are they still alive?), and possible ways to find out what the hell is going on. Then my stomach growls, reminding me I didn't eat breakfast.

"How dare I miss breakfast?"

I glance around my surroundings and realize I'm pretty close to my favorite sushi joint. My parted mouth breaks into a smile.

"Going to see Tsuyoshi sounds like a good idea. Yeah… I haven't seen him for a few weeks…"

Immediately I turn right and back track to the little restaurant I stumbled upon when I first moved here. I keep going back because you can't turn away from super legit sushi-yas that literally make their own wasabi like he does. Tsuyoshi is badass to the intense extent. The car gets closer to his shop, making me think about him more. If I was older, I think I would probably try and date him. Actually, I would give him a chance in spite of our age difference now, since that the thought of dating older men is pretty appealing. The man has a good smile and a good sense of humor, not to mention he's also financially stable.

My car lightly squeals to a stop in front of the unmarked building I know as the Take Sushi. I see the open sign isn't up yet, but I know that he will sometimes let patrons in if they knock. I nod and say to myself, "Yeah. I'm a knocker."

Then I get out of the car and walk up to the door. He has a sign up that says, _Currently preparing. Please wait a while_. After a few seconds of brooding, I knock on the door anyways.

A few moments pass, and the door cracks open. A familiar face, with the creases of aged happiness, peeks through curiously. "Can I—oh, Dee-san. How are you?"

I give him the friend smile. "Great, but didn't I tell you to drop the -san?"

He mirrors my grin and lets me in.

My tattered white slip-ons lightly tat against the tile inside the unlit restaurant. A flip of a light switch echoes in the cool, airy room and Tsuyoshi quickly walks back to his normal place behind the bar. I sit on my usual stool to the far left. We immediately start exchanging extraneous chit-chat about what we have been up to, why I haven't shown up in a few weeks, and so on so forth. Before I even look at the menu, I hear a bottle pop open and watch it magically appear in front of me.

An exaggerated sigh slips out of my salivating mouth. "Tsuyoshi, you know me too well."

He just chuckles and sets my usual plate in front of me too. I notice he left off the snow crab.

"No crab?" I frown.

"I slept in and was late to the market."

I shake my head and jibe him sarcastically. "That's no good Mr. Sushi. You're slacking."

Tsuyoshi's brown eyes disappear from his usual grin. "I'll be sure to have it next time you come in."

"I'm going to hold you to that." I give him the eye as we both just chuckle. Then the rim of a beer bottle touches my lip for the first time. Sweet, hoppy symphony.

While I munch away on my cuts of whale nigiri, Tsuyoshi fills me in on how his son is doing this season for baseball. I can understand most of what he's talking about, but he absent-mindedly starts talking about stats and RBI's and other stuff. I sigh lightly as he begins to overwhelm my head; too many numbers and not enough knowledge about what they mean. I just take another drink of my beer and nod.

Then I ask, "You aren't going to kick back with me and drink one too?"

Tsuyoshi is usually willing to drink a little when it's just he and I.

But the man shakes his head no. "I have an event that I have to send some catering to."

"Ah, well that's cool. What's it for?"

"A funeral."

I frown and take another drink of my beer. My dark eyes slide towards the covered window. "Yeah, not so cool."

Tsuyoshi furrows his thick brows at me. "You should have more respect for the dead."

I smirk, noticing his fatherly expression. "I'll work on that, then." My chopsticks lead another piece of shrimp nigiri to my mouth before changing the subject. "So when am I going to meet this son you keep telling me about?"

He grins while paying attention to the fish in front of him. "You have a knack for showing up when Takeshi isn't here helping me out."

"Yeah I do. But I need to meet him and get an autograph before he goes pro."

He stops slicing something and looks up to me. "You don't want that."

My hand stops mid-bite. "Why not?"

"His kanji is poorly written."

I bust out laughing. "Awww, that's messed up."

We chat a little longer about his son and let our conversation transition to martial arts. I like this subject because it's one I know a lot about. One thing that really makes me enjoy talking about martial arts with Tsuyoshi is that he tries to play coy. I can tell he knows a lot about it. Hopefully he will spill the beans on what he practices one day. Till then, I'll just tell him about how much I dig my tai chi.

We hit a moment of pause where I get back into my eating and he gets back to his sushi-ing. I just listen to him mutter things to himself.

"This is a good snapper." His eyes inspect the bright red fish some more. "It's very lovely indeed."

I chime in while wriggling my eyebrows. "You should make me two pieces of nigiri with it."

Tsuyoshi nods, smirks cleverly and asks, "You want to see a trick?"

"Hell yeah I do." I'm always down to see something cool.

His smirk becomes a little smug as he happily whispers, "Since Takeshi isn't here…"

Effortlessly the red snapper is tossed up. I keep my eyes on him, totally fascinated with the simple revelation that Tsuyoshi's presence has completely disappeared. Then it hits me. All the hairs on my scalp rise. My fingers tense. I even stop breathing. A tidal wave of firm intent floods the room as the sushi man closes his eyes and whips his large sushi knife around. Resolute strikes with no hesitation. I can barely keep my eyes on his movements. Witnessing his abilities, my lips can't help but curl into a wild grin as I eat his flawlessly blind strikes like dried cherries.

There is only a tiny shred of conscience keeping me from stabbing my chopsticks in his throat, just to see if I could do it. _He's only three feet away—it would only take a second._

My back crawls in excitement.

No. Tsuyoshi has a kid. And he's a good acquaintance. Double no. He's an honest man too. That's more than enough no's. I just shake my head, dropping it for an instant.

"Mr. Sushi, that was some of the coolest sushi making I have ever seen."

I notice he has already placed pretty garnishes around the amazingly sliced fish. Now it looks super pretty, even in death. This man sure knows how to respect the dead.

Tsuyoshi gives me a satisfied nod. "Looks like my skills are still not bad!"

"You skills are enough to kill." I give him a look showing that he cannot play coy with me any longer.

He cocks a brow to me. "Ha ha, you think so?"

"Oh yeah." I tip my beer bottle up to take a drink, but never let our eyes break contact. Tsuyoshi just keeps his innocent smile.

"Dad? Are you here?"

Both Tsuyoshi and I jump to the sound of a boy's voice. The sushi man quickly grabs some bok choy and begins slicing it like an amateur. I just take another drink of my pretty much empty beer. Foam. No bueno.

To the entrance of his son, Tsuyoshi has a goofy look on his face as he nervously says, "What's wrong Takeshi? Did you forget something?" Then he looks at me, and then at the green vegetable before continuing, "Daddy is struggling to cut scallions."

_Whoops. Totally thought that was bok choy in front of him._

I can't help but smirk at the sushi-ya in front of me. But I decide to give this highly spoken of 'Takeshi' a look. Tall stature, a messy black mop in the cute form of bed head, somewhat thin build and his father's brown eyes with the exception that his are bigger. My smile turns become one of sheer pleasure. Takeshi is the cute, tall Asian from the crosswalk. He's the cute, tall Asian that got his ass kicked by the man I now remember as Superbi Squalo. _Did I just hear an old cash register pop open? Because I'm totally thinking I just hit the jackpot._

But the cute Asian doesn't notice my presence; rather, he just ignores it after sparing me a glance and a somewhat forced smile. I leave my eyebrow raised in curiosity as the baseball boy asks, "Hey Dad. Will you teach me Kendo?"

We are all silent, but in my head is a slot machine ringing and binging from my complete victory. I know where one of these little mafia kids live. I also have his name (Yamamoto Takeshi). Finding the other two will be pie. My life has officially become ten times more interesting, thanks to sushi. I knew there was a reason I loved this shit so much.

Tsuyoshi looks at me weirdly, probably unsure of how to proceed since I'm here.

The young, tall Yamamoto looks at the bok choy, then at his dad, and then at me. He really is a cute kid; a very bright face. Full of what I like to call _positude_. Positiveness plus attitude as a whole, personified.

Positude is Takeshi.

I then realize I'm staring at the kid. So I just play it off. "Yeah, your Dad totally told me you were one super ugly-looking kid."

The Yamamoto boys are both taken aback. I just laugh and then declare, "I'm lying. Your Dad has told me tons of good things about you."

They both start laughing at me as I hop down from my stool. The younger Yamamoto instantly stops and tilts his head to the side. I'm not really sure why he did it, but I just give him a skeptical glance as I hand Tsuyoshi a bill that will serve as payment and a super tip. Though I'm aware that it isn't customary to tip people in Japan, I still feel like he deserves it. Tsuyoshi glances at the yellow-printed note and begins begin to hustle over to his register, but I stop him.

"Don't even bother with the change." I grin. "You two just have fun today."

Tsuyoshi looks at me dubiously. "Are you sure? There's no need for you to rush out of here."

"Ehh, the beers are finished and the sushi has been eaten. You two go on and kendo your hearts out."

The two then give me identical grins and farewells (_cute_) as I sneak out the little shop. It is that point when the door shuts under my grip that I feel my excitement surge. I pull my phone out of my skirt pocket and immediately text Mia.

[From Dee] Mimi. I hit jackpot. I'll be in front of your school in less than ten minutes to pick you up. Hustle.

I rev the old Landcruiser to life and zoom down the road. I barely feel the need to watch for cars around me. I'm alone, so safety is not necessary. Then I whip the car around another side street towards to school and feel my butt start to vibrate. A text? I pull my phone out and see that is a call from an acquaintance. I answer in Italian.

"You got any good news for me?"

Her cool, tenured voice bleeds out of the speaker. "I've been lurking around, but no one of my rank in the Calcassa family knows about the incident you told me about."

I nod. "I figured that would be the case. Then I guess we're done?"

As I give a slight glance to my fellow drivers around, flashing my turn signal, she stops me. "If that's what you want, but I did get a hold of that info you asked about."

Turning onto the main road to Mimi's school, I smirk. "You were actually able to get it?"

"I have my ways."

_I wonder who she fucked for it. _"Cool. You know how to send it my way."

"Payment. Nine."

I cock a brow and park. "Euros?" _Nine thousand?_

"Yeah."

I glare at some guy crossing the street while shaking my shifter to make sure it's in neutral. "Bullshit. This better be shit greater than that guy that invented the toaster."

"It's pretty good."

I snort and see Mimi running out the doors. "Send it and I'll wire the payment after I receive it."

_Like hell I'm paying that much._

"Fine."

I start going for the end button until I hear, "Wait."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah?"

"Eleazar is looking for you."

"Don't care."

"Are you going to tell Jones about this Vongola stuff going on?"

I gripe, "No. I have no reason to randomly call Jones and tell him and I don't want to hear about Eleazar."

[End]

Then I glance towards the school and notice Mimi is super close to the car. I reach across the passenger seat to unlock her door. The uniform-clad girl hops in the car with some wild eyes. She looks excited. She looks like she's ready to go do something crazy. I just nod, telling her that today has been a great day. But before I even finish my thought, Mia starts talking frantically about a million things at once. I simply look at her every few seconds as the car rumbles down the paved road. One thing is for sure, though, Mia wants me to drive fast. That's all I can make out of her almost psychotically happy and excited mumbling. Actually, she does say something about information on a piece of paper. I just nod to that too and say, "Cool."

I notice afterwards she says more, but I tell her I'm driving and listen to her speak half-sensibly. I'm also cool with driving fast, so I throw the tan, rusted car into forth gear and zoom.

She keeps rambling, distracting me. I swerve. "Shit! Fucking squirrel!"

I hate those bastards.

Mia stops. "Wow… I wonder what would've happened if we ran it over…"

While staring at the road, I smirk. "What does it matter? I would've rid the world of one more evil fucking bastards." Then I nod. "Very deserving of some kind of award."

"You hate squirrels? _Why?_"

While hitting the last leg of our journey, I explain to Mia my hate of all squirrels. I can feel my brows furrow as I begin to rant. I can even feel my nose scrunch. "Dude! I couldn't even go outside without something hitting me from above! Then I would glare at the skinny pines trees above me. And what would I see? A fucking squirrel."

I shake my head and give my signature glare to the world. "Goddamn squirrels."

The rest of the car ride is filled with nothing but laughter. Mia's laughter starts it. Both of our jokes continue the process. The car turning off didn't stop them. Our jokes somehow moved on something about old men and dancing. Upon exiting the car, the door is unlocked to enter, the fridge is raided for beer and the bedroom is entered by two. Mimi and I wander to my room quickly, where my fingers tap on the Mac sitting upon my desk. The file prints and I give it a gander. I grab my phone.

[From Dee] This will work, but your price is shit. I am wiring half your desired payment.  
>[Carrera] Bullshit.<br>[Dee] Then go suck a dick to make up for the rest.

Mia wanders over to my couch to sit while I sift through the paperwork and take occasional sips out of a green bottle. Neither of us says anything. I notice that out of everything my acquaintance sent me info on, there is nothing about any fifteen year old boys in Japan. I definitely remember that Boss of the Cavallone famiglia saying he couldn't get involved because the boys were fighting their own family.

I declare idly, "She sent me info on the Vongola's current boss (and his bodyguards) and she sent me info on the Varia, but there is nothing in here about cute little fifteen year olds in Japan."

Mia chuckles in an annoyed manner. "Well, isn't the information shit?"

I just look at her. Little does she realize that knowing these faces will be important, if we get caught lurking. This is a good situation to stay cynical on.

"_I know more about it than she does."_

My brow cocks, as does my rude sarcasm. "Well congratulations, you deserve a fucking cookie. You wanna eat it now?"

Mia snaps back sarcastically. "Well never mind then." Still sitting on the couch, her arms cross in a childish way, and she huffs before muttering, "_I was only looking for some praise_."

I'm thinking I'm only looking for a break. This whole _watch kids fight to the death for no reason_ is becoming more taxing than it should be. This is lame. I'm already over it. If Mia doesn't have as good of information as she claims, then I'm leaving to go to work.

Still mulling on her last statement, there are plenty of mean things I could say to her in response. I stick to the high road of not fueling unnecessary flames. So I frankly ask, "So what did you find out at school?"

"Their names. Four of their names…" She pauses. "I mean there's four of them."

While chuckling, I see her pull something out of her pocket. Before she can continue, I proceed in telling her what I know. "One of them is named Yamamoto Takeshi. His dad is named Tsuyoshi, and they both live at their sushi restaurant about two kilometers from here. I saw the kid ask his dad to teach him Kendo only a bit ago. I'm thinking he is about to apprentice his dad to learn a sword style since learning kendo is the most traditional way of teaching sword basics."

"I imagine him and his friends are going to need to know _kendo_ for that Sumo Tournament they're going to."

I ask, "Who told you about Sumo Wrestling?"

She tries to play cool guy, unfolding some piece of paper in front of me and arrogantly showing me scribbles of chicken scratch. "It's a lie obviously."

"Oh?" _No shit Dick Tracy._

She hands me the paper and starts romantically informing me. "_Tsu-kun, Yamamoto-kun, and Gokudera-kun… they're all such great friends. Ryohei Sasagawa's little sister, Kyoko Sasagawa, who is innocent to the bone (_she's like the sugar plum fairy mixed with a little of the Virgin Mary_) told me that her brother, Ryohei Sasagawa—_"

"Dude. Get to the point."

She stops talking cute and bluntly explains how Yamamoto's pals in crime are Hayato Gokudera and Tsunayoshi Sawada, and these are the kids that were at the fight the other day. She also tells me that there is obviously another kid involved, Ryohei Sasagawa. Apparently this Ryohei guy told his little sister he is preparing for a Sumo Wrestling Tournament with the other three. I give the grinning girl a skeptical look. What fucking Middle School Kid seriously competes in Sumo Wrestling? No one except fat kids.

"Do you know if Ryohei is fat? Or his little sister for that matter?"

She starts laughing at my question, but pretty much tells me no. She starts handing me another piece of paper, smaller than the first one, but I don't give it any attention. Lies are never far from the truth; unless you lie so often that the truth is no longer evident to you. But hearing that the little sister is not a liar (being part Mary with the cherry), I'm going to be positive and say that the brother is a pretty honest kid as well. Honesty equals bad liar, like me.

So I ponder Sumo Wrestling while my feet begin to pace back towards the desk. That's hand to hand combat. Then my mind goes back on Yamamoto and his kendo. Then my eyes shift around the room, just taking in little stuff: computer, mirror (whoa, forgot I'm wearing a school uniform), couch, mural on my wall, bookcase, Gameboy (did I save my game after I caught Raikou?).

Pokemon. Kids. Teams. Sumo. Kendo. Light bulb. Cash register popping open.

"Ryohei probably fights in hand to hand combat. I'd bet ten thousand Yen on it."

My sidekick responds, "I'm not a betting woman, but why do you think that?"

"Because every Pokémaster knows better than to challenge a gym with only one type of Pokémon."

Mia looks at me weirdly. "Dude, I think our minds just went to two totally different places."

I smile and walk to the bookshelf my Gameboy is sitting on. "No way dude. Trust me. They're all fighting in different ways. I bet if I go out looking for Hayato Gokudera tomorrow, I will see him trying to…"

"Lift a boulder with his mind?" Mia jibes.

I just laugh at myself. Rookie mistake. How could that name not have clicked earlier? "No. Hayato Gokudera. Smoking Bomb Hayato." I softly laugh again. "He's a Vongola assassin. He's a mid-range fighter. Bombs; hence the name dude."

My Pokemon Gym Challenge Theory is only becoming more concrete._ I'm a fucking master._

Mia's eyes aglow in fascination as I try to remember what Mr. Gokudera looked like in that profile I read on him when Jones first took Eleazar and I in. "Wow… this guy sounds really intense… I wonder what the other guys are like…" She gives a second's glance full of that anchorman-like swagger. "I just have to know now. We have to."

I smile. "You just be cool and go to school. And while you do that, I'll play creepster and find out more stuff."

While my feet carry me back to the birch desk again, Mimi starts going on a tangent and says something about running off to the Yamamoto house because she has a plan. The note she gave me is placed on the desk to be read later. My eyes are idly glancing at the folded square as I just tell her to do whatever, waving her off. I no longer care about someone I already have info on. The only one I care about now is the mysterious Tsunayoshi.

Wait. Thinking of looking for people, why was Eleazar looking for me? Instantly my heart starts to run with worry as the possibilities pile, pound per pound. No longer do I care about some middle school kid that was one of two boys in my memory bank (silver head or pansy face). My shoulders tense to the pressure and my diaphragm goes to work, pushing air to my now humming mouth. Eleazar—work. Play—Sawada Tsunayoshi. Which do I do first?

"_Will you give me a ride_? _Please_?"

My eyes glance upon Mia's persuasive/trying to be cute smile for only a second. Looking back at my desk, Metric's song _Playgirl_, one of my favorite songs, eases my shoulders and clears my mind. The decision sits on my desk in the form of two familiar names on a piece of paper.

Work.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

word count: 6,699  
>[I do not own any KHR characters]<p>

if you like this, please read _And there I live among the Clams_ by Ausumist  
>Same story, Mia's POV<p>

.Captain.


	5. Working & Lurking

**Chapter 4: October 18th**

In my hand is a heavy pocket watch. I'm winding it obsessively as I wait for this car ride to be over. While the cricks of the winder repeat and repeat, the driver in the front seat pays no attention. I'm sure he understands that we all have rituals.

Once I'm out of the car and inside the ritzy hotel, I stop and slip the weighted timer in my back pocket. Then I realize that I look like a bum. I shrug my shoulders and keep walking to the front desk.

"May I help you?" asks a man close to my age. He's giving me that look, the one where he's secretly judging me._  
><em>

"Jones (the patron staying in your master suite) Can you please inform him that his…" I inspect a little green watch on my wrist (I'm early). "His 9:30 appointment has arrived."

A cordially fake smile appears. "Of course, please wait one moment."

The tall man calls and grants me access to the suite. I nod and smirk at the concierge before tromping to the elevator. The quiet, sky-bound ride makes my ticking pocket watch all the louder, and my apprehension brims. Eyes watching the numbers, I sigh and start singing to myself.

The rising box stops and the doors open fast. Two very tall men in suits welcome me to Jones' floor. They stare at me as I stare at them. Their chins dip, giving me the signal, and I smirk. My arms rise, legs spread, and my mouth opens. One bodyguard stands back as the other pats me down, checking for weapons. The ticking clock tocks.

"A pocket watch?" The frisker questions, looking at me skeptically after pulling the round object out of my back pocket. I grin to his retarded expression.

Jones' voice echoes from behind his bodyguards. "The pocket watch is nothing." He sounds idle, like his mind is elsewhere.

The men let me through and my boss comes to view. He's sitting at a small table that holds a good view of Tokyo. I glance over to Tokyo Tower as I amble to the breakfast table, where newspaper upon newspaper lies comfortably next to an untouched breakfast.

I sit in front of my boss robotically and wait for him to drop the Italian newspaper. Jones starts speaking to me in Russian. Part of his dialogue is a good morning, the other part an insult. I really don't understand much of it, so I respond back in Italian. "I have no fluency in Russian. Can we speak something else?"

He easily switches to Japanese as he drops the Italian newspaper and grabs an Oriental one. "The less you know, the more useless you are."

"We can't all be geniuses."

"Of course, Miss High School Dropout."

I look away from the newspaper covered in Kanji and laugh facedly, pissed that he has to bring that shit up and pissed that I'm seeing kanji characters I haven't taught myself yet. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get to the point of why you're here. Everyone knows you hate Japan."

"Their food tastes like shit."

I roll my eyes and smirk. "It's not a shared opinion."

"Hmm, I don't recall having a care for yours."

I just laugh away my desire to call him a dick until the room becomes silent. My ticking clock ticks and his crisp newspaper crinkles. I just sit and sit. Eventually the newspaper drops, and his face comes into view. Old balding head with a short crop, bright green eyes, and a never fading cold expression—Jones. This is the guy El and I tried to rob, this is the guy who literally almost killed us for it, this is the guy who is only a click (and a tick) away from killing me now.

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you want to live?"<em>

_My eyes are closed and my teeth are grinding. I'm supposed to be dead. Why am I not dead? I open my eyes and look at the old man. He's glaring at me, but wearing a menacing grin. Being held down by some bodyguards, Eleazar's dark brown eyes are looking at me with awestruck terror. The knife in Jones' hand looks weird. Bent._

"_Do you want to live?" Jones asks me louder._

_I can feel stupid tears balling at the corners of my eyes, but look him straight in the eye as I declare, "More than anything."_

_A small chuckle escapes the old guy. "Good." Then he bashes me with the knife's handle._

* * *

><p>"It's time to replace your chains."<p>

I stop reminiscing and nod to my boss, knowing that my neck is going to hurt soon. My finger traces along two small chain-linked strands that wrap around my neck until I hit the clasp. The anticipation is making my skin itch; the clasp is the worst part.

Off goes the beanie and I pull my hair into a small bun. The heavy clock in my pocket ticks. I press a small button on the side of the clasp that unlocks and unlatches it from my skin. Then I pull slowly. Two metal prongs, nestled in my skin, slide out.

The sound of a lighter clicks and I see Jones taking a drag of a cigarette. The smoke smells terrible. After another drag, my boss dressed in a white dress shirt, black tie and slacks walks to me holding a new collar. _He _is putting it on me? My skin crawls and I sense the lean man move behind me, his breaths running down my shoulders. I focus on the clock in my pocket and the razor blade in my mouth.

_The second it looks like he might kill me, I'll go straight for the carotid._

My eyes close as Jones pushes two new metal prongs into the throbbing holes. They slide in easily. With an exaggerated snort, I bite my fist and slyly move the razorblade between my fingers. It's coming, it's—Jones pushes the clasp button—metal shards frag out of the prongs, latching the clasp in place. My teeth dig into my fist as pain and surprise dig into my neck. It's something I'll never get used to.

"Don't forget who you serve," Jones whispers in my ear. His lips are brushing against my ear. "Your death is only a click away."

"I'm aware."

"Never keep information about the Vongola away from me again." He tugs on the newly attached clasp.

I reply through my teeth, "It won't ever happen again."

He lets go of the clasp. "Good."

Eyes still closed, I now notice that the throbs of my neck are in synch with the ticks of my pocket watch. With my eyes closed, I listen to the ticks and amp myself up for my chance. Jones' shoes knock and tock against the wood floors until the sound of a moving chair reminds my eyes to open. I see Jones sitting in front of me again. He looks completely unfazed, more like he is bored. I stay unsmiling and slide the little silver slicer in my pocket. I'm safe today.

Now pulling the hair tie out of my dark brown hair, the Boss tosses a manila folder in front of me. Putting my beanie back on, the his scratchy voice sounds, "This is a job for you and Mike Belarrizio. I want you both in Sado on the 22nd."

My eyes slide to the left as I questioningly mumble, "Sado… Sado…"

"Sado Prefecture, is on an island northwest from here. Your target will be there on business."

I nod and pucker my lips in a satisfied fashion, ready to leave. This is obviously the date he wants Stitch dead, as well as this other guy that he's talking about. As I chatter a simple, "Will do, I'll be leaving now," I hear him clear his throat.

"Dee."

Already walking away, I stop and turn back. "Hn?"

"You have been with me for almost six years now. I never thanked you for your loyalty."

Heart stopping, I smile my prettiest smile. "It's nothing you need to thank me for."

"You're right; it is a situation that requires no thanks."

Jones is wearing his scowl of battle as I wave and leave. There are knots in my throat as large as golfballs and my adrenaline is surging. I silently march to the elevator and lightly press the lobby button. When the metal doors slide shut, I finally find the security to speak to myself out loud. "Fuck." That last remark wasn't petty boss talk, it was expectation.

_I better start looking for more dirt on this succession thing._

* * *

><p>My body is trying to be like melted butter on toast as I look around outside. No birds flying around, looks like a light wind is blowing around and nothing but cirrus clouds; good weather for sure tonight and tomorrow. But I let out a listless sigh and try to go back to sleep to rid myself of the ache for a few hours. This couch isn't slept on enough…<p>

"Hey Alana?"

Lying on my stomach, I slur, "Yeah?"

"Can you give me a ride to the mall?"

For some reason, I just feel like fucking with her. "No way. Got up super early today, like at nine for an appointment. Plus, the Japanese walk everywhere; you totally need to get with the culture."

"But I don't want to have to walk all the way down the mountain and then to the mall." I hear her say behind me.

I grin big as I argue, "_This is obviously a shoe issue._ I can buy you new ones."

"I like my shoes!" She whines sarcastically.

I jibe back, "I don't see you walkin' in em'. You need to get like these Japs and get walkin'."

At this point we both know I'm going to give her a ride, but the argument still continues. We somehow get on the last time she asked for a ride (which I refused) to the Yamamoto house. She whines more, blaming her screw up on me, and I cackle loudly, remembering how she came home and revealed that she somehow told Tsuyoshi's son that she liked Sawada Tsunayoshi _on accident_. I guess she was trying to find out where Sawada lived.

I miss Tsuyoshi; I need to go eat some more sushi soon.

The back of my neck begins to sting, so my laugh dies down to my normal chuckle of pain. But pain does not stop me from rubbing it in Mia's face how much of an idiot she is and sarcastically offering her new shoes again. My neck continues to roar annoyingly. I'm probably not going to be able to sleep any longer.

Our echoes of laughter die down, so I stretch to limber before I get up. I let out a relaxed "ngh" to the feeling and sit up. Grimace becomes the expression of the hour, for the fact that anything I do with my upper body just makes my neck throb. _This is super fucking vexing._ It's not even like that annoying yet addictive pain of gauging your ears._ It's no bueno._

Eventually it dawns on me that I'm spacing out in front of my cousin. I chuckle with a smirk and look back to the busty brunette, only to see her heading up the stairs, boobs bouncing like _Baywatch_. I snort, immediately thinking of that terrible show. Then I yell, "Am I going to the mall with you?"

A few seconds pass before Mia's naturally loud voice replies, "No. I just need a ride to Kyoko Sasagawa's house."

"Ah, cool." I nod; I so get to walk around the house naked while she's gone. Then looking out the large window in front of me to the view outside—a fourth acre of clear grassy land, then the huge old trees that hide us from the city, and the clear sky. I mumble to myself, "This view is amazing… El would be so jealous."

* * *

><p>A front door opens, and a petite looking girl comes out of the house. I cock a brow, instantly remembering the girl in front of us: the girl from the sidewalk last weekend, the girl from the classroom a few days ago, the cute girl with weak-looking eyes. I keep my tone hushed, despite the fact the windows are up. "That's Kyoko Sasagawa?"<p>

"Yep." Mia answers.

I give her a toothless smirk and shake my head. _What irony._

Mia tries looking for the button to unlock the car until I remind her that she has to do it manually. Her long brown hair covers her reaction as she grabs for the silver pin and pulls up. I can't help but snort to the moment as my cousin gets out of the car. _Geez, kids these days… _Then it dawns on me that I should probably introduce myself to Kyoko, to follow the Asian protocol. So I unlatch my belt and get out of the car.

"Hey, I'm Desma Martinez, Margaret's cousin." I call, walking around the car and giving her a brief wave. I notice the honey-eyed girl give me a slight look of surprise, though I'm unsure why. The light gray bomber jacket she's wearing is pretty cool.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Fernandez-san's classmate Sasagawa Kyoko."

Looking to me with her big eyes, she smiles cutely and bows. Her super girly charm weirds me out, simply because it's something I'm sure I don't possess, so I grin and wave both hands to her. "Whoa, no need to be so formal. I'm not that much older than you, nor do I require such respect." I just put out my hand, taking hers and only clasping it for a second (my lady-like handshake). "So you and Margaret are going to the Mall?"

_Why did I shake her hand?_

"Yes." Kyoko simpers. "I invited her to go with myself and my friend Haru, along with some kids that live near Haru."

"Ah." I nod with a pleased smirk. "Well would you guys like a ride?"

Sasagawa glances at my old, tan SUV next to her before indicating, "That won't be necessary. It's already nice enough that Margaret is coming along."

I let my smile grow, allowing for my lesbo charm to leak through. "Are you sure Sasagawa? I mean, you are dressed in a skirt and flats—super cute—you wouldn't want your feet to start hurting before you even got to the mall. We both know that you never really know with flats." Then I give the car a good smack and say, "Plus, this car has an old steel body, which means super freaking safe, and I'm also licensed in four countries."

"Wow, that's amazing. Four countries?"

"Yep. So I can assure you a safe trip, as well as shorter travel time." _If she falls for this, she's an idiot._

Kyoko looks at Mia, who is only observing the situation next to Sasagawa, and then looks back to me with another warm smile. "Well, if it isn't a bother," she bows cutely, "Then please take care of me."

I give her a crooked smirk. "Not at all, hop in."

She totally bowed to me—_so kawaii_. I quickly step back to my door as the short-haired brunette and the long-haired brunette get into the car. My hand rakes untamed hair out of my face as I hop into my seat and head over to this _Haru_ girl's house, thanks to Kyoko's directions.

I give the girl props, despite her obliviousness. Kyoko definitely knows her way around the city. She gets five points for good navigation skills. The three of us quickly zoom from her house on the South side of the suburban district to the East side. We drive down the wide street and quickly park about midway down the block in front of brown house. Kyoko softly chimes, "Ah, there's Haru-chan's house."

Uncaring of the pain, I look to the left and ask, "The brown one right there?" I point to the house that has a girl and three kids in front of it. They look like they're playing a game. Precious.

"Yep, that one Desma-sempai."

Aww, she called me sempai. I feel so fucking cool now, and I'm not even club-affiliated. While turning the car off, I look over to Mia and give that _isn't she great _look. Mia's responding expression is one of misery. My warm and fuzzy expression flies away, changing to a _whoa what's wrong _one.

"Kyoko-chan!"

My head naturally turns. The girl from in the house across the street is stupidly running to the car. The kids smartly wait on the sidewalk while Kyoko gets out of the car and rushes to her friend. I watch Mia follow sluggishly, while witnessing the weirdest preteen hello ever. I cock a brow and look away, unsure of what to think of the Kyoko and her friend hugging on each other so… desperate-like. Peering at the crowd outside my window one again, Kyoko looks at Mia and says, "This is Haru."

A cash register pops open and money flies all about in my head. She's the other girl from the side walk; she was actively searching with pansy-looking kid. They were looking for the afro cow I grabbed. Wait—those kids! Damn Kyoko… She had me all wrapped up on being called sempai, that I didn't even notice that those were the kids that were at the side walk too. The older boy with brown hair and cutely rolled up jeans is hugging Kyoko, a small Asian kid wearing traditional martial arts clothing is only observing everyone, and the little boy with the cow print onesie and cute green eyes is standing right next to Mia, offering her some fresh picked boogers. I chortle._ He's Lambo-san, the superhero powered by nose jam_. "Whoa, can't believe I remembered his name… Well, it is a pretty weird name." I confirm to myself, "Yeah, the weird ones always stick."

Right as I decide to get out and introduce myself, my phone rings. I look at the kids and answer the call.

"Hello?" I naturally answer in English.

"Bueno? Es esta Senorita Martinez?" asks a man with a thick, Southern Mexican accent.

"Si."

"Bien. Esta una llamada para informarle que su avión estara en el puerto de, de Yokosukacho en dos días."

I grin big, eyes widening to his news. "Wow, es una gran noticía. Podría rellenarlo con gas?"

"Vamos a poner el costo del gas en su cuenta."

"Gracias. Hasta." My eyes stare at the screen for an instant before hanging up. I need to find a place that will let me store and maintenance it. My thoughts trail to money, and I give a quick call to my accountant. The phone rings and rings for a while, but I finally get an answer.

"It is 2 in the morning."

I cock a brow. "You're exaggerating." I look at my watch. "Four thirty-ish here in Japan is one thirty-ish Chicago time."

"This better be good," the young guy grumbles.

I chuckle; I must be cock-blocking on sexy time. "I need you to move over like… three hundred Euros? Yeah, Three hundred euros over to my spending fund."

"Three hundred Euros? You seriously called me for three hundred euros?" His tone is incredulous. It makes this situation seem really humorous though I'm being serious. Then I realize why he's pissed.

I laugh. "Whoops. I meantthree hundred thousand Euros."

"Wait, what? Hundred thousand? Nuh, uh. As your accountant, I can't—"

"Hey Chad, I'm pretty sure that I don't pay you to question me. I pay you to handle the money because you have a degree that says you can. Toodle loo." I hang up, sure as ever that he hates me. But he's still a good guy. I love imagining his reaction to my profession, if I were to ever tell him. I chuckle some more. "Oh that Chad~, such a bitcher and complainer…"

Getting out of the car, I compose myself and start taking the Haru girl in. My hair is definitely darker than Haru's, but her brown eyes (lighter than mine) and face in general are cuter than mine. But mine has womanly definition, so I win. A pleased smirk wipes wide across my face as I listen to Kyoko and Haru chitchat.

"Thank you Haru, you look cute today as well."

Mia and I glance at each other for a second and look back to the two girls. Haru is dressed kind of cute, in a preteen sort of way. She's wearing a skirt, flats, and light jacket (like Kyoko), but she's layered her upper half modestly. Kyoko is just keeping it cool with a t-shirt. "Haru, this is her cousin, Desma-sempai. She gave us a ride here."

_Sempai… She's great._

"It's so nice to meet you!" says the super chipper girl in a squeaky tone that is very unpleasant to my ears. "I'm Miura Haru from Midori Oka Ga. You can just call me Haru!"

_Midori Oka Ga? What?_ After giving a small wave and smile, the little boy I saved a few days ago speaks. "My name is Lambo-san. If you give me candy, I'll let you be my minion." He points to me and gives a look of mischief.

"Aww man…" I snap my fingers and kick some rock. "Being a minion sounds way cool, but I have no candy."

"No candy, no following," declares the boy, his strut full of swagger. We all chuckle to the ornery boy, until the older boy introduces himself as Fuuta and the little Asian is introduced as I-pin. It surprises me to find out that that I-pin is a girl, but I dare not mention it out loud. But now learning all the names, I smile and say, "You can all call me Desma, or _sempai_. Would you all like a ride to the mall?"

* * *

><p>Giving a quick thank you to the owner of the air hangar and reading-off of the address I wrote down, I hang up and grin. "Well that was cool." I sigh and stretch. "Need to tell Stitch I found transportation to that island."<p>

While tapping a quick text to him, my phone goes psycho and starts buzzing in my hand. "Dammit," I mutter, pissed that Mia has to call me in the middle of texting. I snort and answer. "What's up?"

"I need your help."

"No you don't." I reply, scratching my head.

"The kids are lost!"

"Oh…" I say, unsure of what she wants to hear. "That sucks."

"Will you help us look on your bike?"

My brows furrow. "Do I have to? And wait, on my bike? Isn't that a little stupid, considering that the bike only carries two?"

"It's fast and can go more places than a car. Please!" she begs.

Tossing everything on my lap aside, I stand up and sigh. "Fine, but give me a sec. I'm hanging out in my birthday suit."

She laughs, "Look around the south side of town and the schools and parks over there. All of us are looking around in the neighborhoods."

"'Kay, whatev." I grumble as I touch the large window behind my computer desk (_hmm, not that cold out_).

My cousin thanks me as I hang up and groan more. _I so wanted to do nothing tonight._ Quickly getting my pants on, I groan again because my shirt and bra are missing. "I thought they were right—bah, fuck it." I prattle as I scurry to the closet for something else. Mia so owes me for this. I chuckle thinking about all the messed up chores I could make her do as I grab a thin black thermal. I then grab my shoes and race down the steps. Those kids aren't my responsibility, so what care do I have for this?

This super negative opinion stays as I veer around the district. Keeping my eyes out for those kids I met earlier, the irony of them being the same kids that I saw with those Mafiosi boys like a week or so ago really starts bothering me. I don't like surreal, nor do I like anything skeptical. Turning around another corner, I park the bike and run inside the school in front of me, sniffing around for steamed, pork filled gyouza and grape candies. My feet fastidiously fly, fearfully finicky, fretful. I watch the empty swings swing, thinking Mia and I are getting a little reckless. _We are getting too close to the Vongola too fast._

Out of that school and wandering through a few other places, I decide those kids aren't around here. Considering the position of the sun, it's obvious that they are heading home. The oldest kid, Fuuta, looked like a pretty responsible older brother. So I get back on the bike and start heading to where Mia is. At a red light, waiting for my turn, I start thinking that they might have already found the kids and just forgot to inform me. I glare at the intersection light above and carp, "I'll be super fucking pissed if that's the case."

Holy shit. Bloodlust. It's right above me.

The light turns green, but my eyes stay focused to the sky, where I just felt some intense murder vibes come from. It was too much for just one person, more like four to seven. A car honks behind me. I do a quick glance back, a sorry, and a turn off to park. I call Mia.

"Hey, where are you?" I ask.

"Umm, near Kuroko street. Why?"

_I'm only four blocks from Kuroko. _While watching the headlights wiz past, I reply, "I'm going to meet up with you so we can search together."

"No!" Mia argues, "You can't! We can cover more by you searching one area and me the other. You keep looking on the south side; I'm almost finished with the neighborhoods."

"I'm already done with the south side. They weren't at the schools so they must be in one of the neighborhoods, most likely theirs. You have checked theirs, right?" I have to make sure my cousin isn't an idiot.

"Kyoko-san and the other girl did. Oh, and now the Tsuna Sawada character is looking for them as well."

_Tsuna Sawada, as in Tsunayoshi Sawada? During the fight, that Arcobaleno was always with those boys._ "Get out of sight. Now."

"Why?" she asks ignorantly.

"Cause if I'm thinking right, there's a baby with him: if that baby sees you, we're in trouble"

"Why, that baby doesn't know me. I'm just another class mate." She argues logically. Then she gets nervous. "Wait, a baby? Oh my god. A baby."

No longer wanting to be on the phone, I scold her saying, "Mia, don't be dickfer. Trust me and hide."

"What about the kids?"

"We'll presume the search when I get there." _Presume? Totally not the right word._ "I mean resume."

I start going for the end button, when I hear Mia whisper, "Alana, someone's coming."

The adrenaline starts surging. "Dude, hide. I'll be there in two."

My legs move to their pegs as I force a spot into the traffic, racing closer to Kuroko Street. Two blocks away and close to a storage locker I rent in town, I park. Turning the bike off and ripping my helmet off, I stop, smack myself and yell, "Fuck!"

I didn't bring my weapon.

Wait, my tool pouch. My hands sift through the pouch of sockets, wrenches, and gauges until I find something good. I grin. "Tire iron? Not bad." I hide the foot and a half long bar under my clothes and dash.

I race through the alleys to safely get closer. I haven't seen Mia yet. That worries me. Murderous vibes are lurking in infinitesimal amounts. This worries me more. Here I race down these alley pathways, searching for the most important person to me as death invisibly lurks. I could be walking right into Varia's snare…

But I promised to keep her safe.

Promises go far in this neck of the woods.

Cautiously running out of the pathway, I finally see Mia standing against some house's concrete fence, totally enshrouded by a tree's shadow above. I can hear kids, but I can sense something else too. Instinctively I step back into the alley and away from the light of the street lamps.

"WHAA! HELP!"

Youthful screams echo near, and my eyes dart to rooftops, treetops, and lampposts shaking to the wind's gusts on this cold night. Invisible bloodlust bursts through someone's seams, causing my instinct of flight. Mia springs out of her hiding spot and races towards the intersection nearby. Shit.

Sprinting as fast as I can, Mia's almost to the light shining over the intersection when I get to her. I yank her back by the collar of her thick sweater and feel some of her long hair under my grasp too. The brunette jerks to my pull, but manages to smack me in the face with the back of her hand. I just ignore it, clamping her mouth shut and forcing her back to her original hiding spot while dodging her aimless strikes. Out of the line of sight, moving my grip to her shoulder and pushing her back into the dark, the spastic girl finally sees me. Like nothing, does the flailing fish switch to statuesque.

"The kids!" she whispers.

My finger smashes to my lip to shush her. _Shut the fuck up, or I'll kill you myself_ is what I want to say. Instead, I mouth the reason why she needs to be quiet: _Varia._

Before she can respond, I reach for the phone in my back pocket and inch myself super close to the edge of the fence wall thing. The cold glassy phone in my right hand, I hold it past the corner to inspect what's going on. I'm trying to steady my hand for a clear reflective view, but Mia is flailing her arms about in my peripheral. So I turn back and glare at her, to see something glint. A guy holding a metal stick thing is standing behind Mia, Varia emblem on his jacket. Crap.

I throw my phone at the guy as hard as I can, the iPhone whacking him in the face, while pushing Mia out of my way. He flinches to the electronic brick only for a moment, but long enough for me to pull out my tire iron. Now holding the straight end of the thick metal bar, I raise it over my head to block and knock his strike away. The counter works and leaves him open, so I palm thrust his jaw bone. Now Up close, I notice my phone got him on his eyebrow. It's bleeding a fair amount.

The Varian face holds no reaction. Mine holds a bloody smirk. A patch on his sleeve says _Lightning Strike Force—_this will be easy. He parries, trying to jab me with that stick of his. The tip slices my arm, and I chuckle to the sting. My eyes stay focused on the guy thinking, _Ow. The tip is sharp._ I grab his pointed stick, and whack him in the temple. The tire iron shakes hard from the blow, the guy falls hard. "Why did I let him scratch me?" I utter to myself.

Crouched over him now, I shove the tire iron into his eye socket. _Double tap_. His sunglasses snap and an eye squeezes out. It's brown. I grin to victory and check his pulse. "Gone…"

Adrenaline is burning through veins and my bloodlust is raging. In excitement I surreptitiously search for my next opponent. "We need to get out of here," is all I hear from my cousin behind me. My cousin behind me; shit, my cousin is behind me.

My stomach pits. I stare at the dead Varian I'm now sitting on and realize that I killed someone in front of her. My victory grin turns to a shameful smirk. I grab my phone lying next to him. Then I look back to Mia, seeing her eyes hold no fear as she looks at me. My mouth opens to answer, but a nasty feeling in my gut stirs. I glance at my arm, and then look at the pointy stick. "Not yet. Let's just stop and hang for a few minutes, make sure there are no loose ends." My eyes shift back to the full figured girl. I'm going to be so pissed if I just got poisoned.

So we post back up on the wall and snoop. The first thing I hear is "Xanxus," and I realize that this is a bad time to be getting sick. I release a calm, controlled breath. The boss of Varia is a man that no person wishes to cross paths with. He's known as _assisted suicide _for good reasons. I swallow down more spit and close my eyes for a second, waiting for the next person to speak. My arm is starting to sting badly. I swing it in light circles before dropping myself down to a crouch.

Then three voices all sound off one after the other. One is a young voice, wailing, asking if someone is going to kill them; the next is very childlike, telling someone to run; but the last is deep and intimidating, only yelling the word **die**_**. **_My hairs rise.

"Hold it, Xanxus," says another, a man, an older man, "That's enough. I'll be taking charge from here on." His voice sounds way closer than the rest, making my eyes snap open in surprise.

"Iemistu!" responds a deep tenured man, maybe Xanxus.

"Who invited you!" screams another. That's Superbi Squalo's voice.

"Xanxus, is one of your minions drawing his sword on me, the Outside Advisor?" Back against this house's concrete fence still, my head peeks past the corner to see a blonde-haired man wearing a construction outfit, standing atop a patch of forest raised up high. I shake my head and do an exaggerated blink before looking to the right again. The boomerang boy and another are behind him. The blonde has a great build—I bet he's great at wall sex—just look at those arms. Too bad I'm not one for blondes… But he does fill my facial scruff requirement.

Silence reigns between every Mafioso that Mia and I are snooping on. This nausea is getting worse, making my whole body feel like shit. I don't want Mia to see this (I don't need her freaking out), so I keep my face directed at the blonde who I think is named Iemitsu. Signore Squalo hollers, "You're a coward, Iemitsu," along with some other shit-talk, and the tan blonde counters, saying his cowardice was actually biding time until he received orders from the Ninth. _Vongola Nono? Who the fuck is this Iemitsu, Outside Advisor guy? _

My nose takes in a large sniff of the night air, and catches blood all around us. The guy behind me can't be the only dead guy around here. The metallic-scent makes my whole face twinge, my mouth pooling with enough spit to make a river. The blonde near us is explaining more stuff, but I focus on gaining my composure. A deep breath and I look back to my cousin. I pull my phone out.

[From Dee] Boss. Need help.

"Dad! What are you saying? I don't get any of this!" yells that high-pitched boy. I think it's the pansy kid. Just hearing the rhythm of his speech reminds me of the kid who was fighting while only wearing boxers during _Squalo vs Boomerang Boy: attack on the streets_. I chuckle to the memory of that spikey haired kid with the polka-dot boxers. Then the high pitched boy wails again. "What? Dad is the number two!"

Wait was that voice referring to the blonde guy as his _Dad_? And he's number two? Iemitsu, the Outside Advisor? Fuck. I'm not staying if a Papa Bear is around, especially if he's the Vice. I look at Mia. "Time to go. I'll give the signal to run."

My cousin's eyes seem distressed as I turn away and try to listen to someone's indiscernible dialogue. My phone buzzes, and I see it's a text.

[Jones] This better be good.  
>[Dee] Varia<p>

Then that one pubescent voice wails again. "The Dying Will Flame!"

_Dying Will Flame_? My head tilts curiously; _I've never heard of anything like that…_

I duck my head passed the corner more, now able to see two other groups of people in the distance. Some other mumbles sound, ones from someone else, before the whiner whines more. "Wah! It's written in Italian… I can't read it…"

I see the blonde chuckle lightly before saying, "Translated, this is what it basically says: Until now, I thought that the one worthy to become the heir was Iemitsu's son, Sawada Tsunayoshi, and so I compelled to that. However, lately, because I am nearing the end of my life, my intuition became sharp and I've decided to select an heir that's even more worthy. My son, Xanxus, is the one more worthy to become the true Tenth."

My eyes widen. If other families knew the Vongola were having succession issues, they would be left in a pretty vulnerable position. My body retreats behind the corner as I listen to the whiner son reply, "What? He's the Ninth's Son?"

The dad ignores the question to finish. "But, there will be people who aren't satisfied with the change. Currently, Iemitsu refused the offer to give Xanxus the rings. However, I don't intend to have useless battles between my own family members. So let us start the traditional Vongola battle to satisfy everyone."

"Traditional Vongola Battle?" I muse to myself.

The blonde clears his throat for a second before finally declaring. "In other words… Those who wield the same type of ring will fight in a one-on-one battle."

[From Jones] Someone will pick you up immediately.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

word count: 6,543  
>[I do not own any KHR characters]<p>

if you like this, please read _And there I live among the Clams_ by Ausumist  
>Same story, Mia's POV<p>

.Captain.


	6. Listening is Key

**Chapter 5: October 18****th**

Reassurance. It's awesome. Still crouched next to this concrete barricade of sorts and watching this Vongola altercation, the phone finds its way into my back pocket, but the words from Jones' text do not leave. [_Someone will pick you up immediately._] The phantom words are almost inscribed onto the lamp-lit road. Then I hear that one kid wail once more—the blonde guy's son—the one I'm assuming is Tsunayoshi Sawada. My body cringes. The asphalt under me cringes. The trees and wind even shake in distaste_._

But the boy's cries are given a response by his dad. The man named Iemitsu tells him they are awaiting further instructions on their 'Traditional Vongola Battles.' Silence ensues. So does waiting. It brings a lot to attention: I'm bleeding, Mia doesn't want to be here, and Jones is sending for me now. This is not the time to play sitting duck. Then I remember the dead guy missing an eye.

My eyes dart to the unmoving Varia man, eyes focused on his jacket's crest that says Squadra di Fulmine. I force them to shift slightly to Mia. While she keeps close to the ground like myself, I whisper to her that it's time to go. She continues watching the stilly neighborhood for a few seconds before quietly standing. I follow suit, until the gravel under my feet decides to crackle: I've just given myself away.

_Fuck_, I mouth soundlessly to the crunch. Five seconds go by. I close my eyes for a moment before peaking around the stone barrier Mia and I are hiding beside. My head barely dips beyond the paved corner of concrete, cheek barely touching the cold surface. One. Two. Three. Four. Five seconds more. The teenage Mafiosi boys never noticed the sound. The Varia leaders standing the farthest away don't even waste their breath. Yet I see a muscly blonde in the white tank and coveralls looking in my direction. Four other people standing around the man don't even react. Iemitsu Sawada has seen me.

_Don't move suddenly, dude. _I close my eyes and exhale. _Sudden movement is way more noticeable._ Eyes open once more. The tall man is still looking back in my direction atop the weirdly raised patch of grass. A boy standing beside him glances back too for a moment, until the trees behind the Varia begin to rustle. They rustle hard enough for me to see them from a good 150 feet away. Iemitsu also reacts to the noisy trees in the distance, turning away from me to see two pink haired women enter the stand off. They present themselves as the Cervello. _I really want to hear what they have to say, but trying to leave after they do will be difficult. _After a deep breath I look back to Mia. "Let's move."

We book it through the alleyways to my bike. Residence after residence passes us while I come to the conclusion that I'm not worried about those awaited instructions from that group called 'The Cervello,' Mia and I have gotten enough info tonight. I know Mia will snoop for more info tomorrow. My immediate concern lies in getting her as close to home as I can, before Jones picks me up. We pass a couple more houses silently before I slow. My cousin's brown eyes give me a worried stare, but I shrug it off and grab my phone again. After typing a meeting place to the Boss and hitting send, I notify Mimi that my bike is just around this next corner.

Only a minute later do we get to my bike, where the both of us quickly mount and ride. The drive is quick, ending at the front steps of Namimori shrine. I glance at my watch as I park the bike next to the bicycle rack. _Jones will be here any minute; I have to get her out of here._ "Mia, I need you to use the path from behind the shrine to get home now. Look for the two giant, red maples behind the shine. The path starts between those two trees and ends in the yard. It's a path you can't get lost on, like the one at Grandma's. Do you need a light?"

I sift through my little bag of items for my flashlight. The look Mia's giving me easily voices that she doesn't want to walk alone in the woods. Not at this time of night. Not on 'Spirit Land.' But her hand plucks the flashlight from mine regardless of her opinion. Getting her any closer to the house would give Jones too much of an idea where I sleep at night. Plus, this route is super safe: it's the way I get home when I've drunk too much at the bar, or at Tsuyoshi's.

Familiar headlights come to view ahead just as I hear Mia tell me a witty goodbye, running up the steps towards the main gate as hurriedly, her ponytail whipping side to side with each stomp. The fact that she's never seen the trail in daylight makes me want check if she found the opening in the red maples, but the sound of a barely purring exhaust stops me. My eyes trace over the sleek luxury car pulling up next to me, only to rise for a final check of my surroundings for any possible followers. None spotted, so I calmly enter the black auto in route to Jones' suite.

Upon entering the hotel and getting my access to Jones' room again, I notice the elevator is just as quiet now as it was this morning. Entering Jones' spacious flat is oddly following the events that played this morning too: stare down, pat down, and the boss talking me down. But after the Boss calls me an idiot for getting injured, he signals for a man (quietly in the corner) to come forth and check me.

I slip off my black shirt and sit in an empty chair. The spectacled man moves another chair next to mine and starts with the protocol—heart rate check, pupil check, breathing check—only to then start doing all kinds of weird shit to the cut on my arm. I give him and his shiny metal tweezers a skeptical glance. My fist clenches. "The wound is pretty superficial, doc. No need to go digging for gold." The old man stops and nods, but I keep eyeing him until he drops the tweezers and picks up a cotton swab instead. I nod. "Better choice. I would hate to punch you—"

CLAP!

With a single clap, Jones has stopped us all. The bodyguards rustling around in the background, the doctor fiddling with his tools, all of us. He is giving me 'the look.' My eyes slide away from the stone-faced leader as a guilty smirk slides across my face. A bright light clicks on next to me. Blind. When my sight comes back, I see the doctor holding the tweezers again. My fist instantly balls up again, but Jones averts my attention. "So give me details."

I grin and riposte, "Well, what do you want to know first?"

Standing a few feet away, the lean man takes a sip of his drink and savors it a moment before swallowing. It's scotch—that scent is unmistakable. "Let's start with people. Names and descriptions."

"From what I understand, everyone was Vongola affiliated and every leader of Varia was present—"

"Even Xanxus?" he interrupts, with a brow cocked.

Giving the fair-skinned man a smile, I say, "Yeah, even the Boss."

I go on, telling about the older boys (Sawada Tsunayoshi the boss candidate, Hayato Gokudera, and Sasagawa Ryohei), as well as the little kids (Fuuta, I-pin, and Lambo) that were present. Knowing that Jones might take the initiative and kill them all, I don't mention Tsuyoshi's son, Takeshi. I know the guilt would kill me if I had to take Tsuyoshi's son from him. That kid means everything to him.

"So Smoking Bomb Hayato is working for the Ninth again…" Jones chuckles while his finger brushes on his receding hairline, his hair looking a tad longer than his usually tapered cut. "Gods knows why Timoteo would give that shithead another chance…"

"What do you mean by that?" I question, utterly curious.

"It's nothing you need to know. Smoking Bomb is an easy kill. Go on."

My brows furrow, wondering why a weak assassin would be involved in succession issues, but I quickly toss the thought aside and continue, "Outside of who I've mentioned, there was a last group. The main guy was this tall, muscly blonde who went by _Iemitsu_—"

"Iemitsu?" Jones repeats.

"Uh, yeah. He claimed himself to be some _External Advisor_ for the Vongola that is Second in Command. He was also one of the kids' Dad. I know 'cause they kept referring to him as so."

Jones' expression turns livid as he repeats the names of the middle school boys, his bright green eyes afire. I frown and look away. I'm not willing to take the brute of that fit he looks close to having. So my eyes trail to where the doctor guy is and watch him do weird stuff with powders and liquids. _He must be some kind of crazy chemist._ Only a couple seconds pass before I hear Jones growl, "Those motherfuckers…"

I scratch my forehead and joke, "Yeah, there's a bunch of those guys… that fuck mothers."

He glares at me. "Iemitsu Sawada, the head of CEDEF."

I tilt my head. "Isn't CEDEF supposed to be that Mafia police, like the Vindice but nicer, that keeps a track of all the other families and oh…" I lightly bite my tightened fist. My light bulb took a second to ignite. CEDEF is obviously affiliated with the Vongola—in secret.

Jones reminds the room of how CEDEF tried getting involved when Varia attacked our headquarters a few years back. Iemitsu tried finding out everything he could about who did and didn't survive on our side. As surprised as I am that Jones is reminding me of it all (with all of these extras around), I find how sly the Vongola is to be more stupefying.

_Trying to find out how successful the Varia's attack was while pretending to be the good guys… five points. _

Jones is in his own thoughts as he paces around the room, tepid eyes stabbing everything that comes to view in the romantically lit suite. But he sets his newfound hate for Iemitsu Sawada aside and asks what happened at the meeting. I keep it simple. "Levi A Than's personal squad headed an attack on the middle school boys. I took one guy out that saw me. Then the Varia leaders came to kill everyone. Iemitsu jumped in and stole the show, and stated how they are going to handle their _succession issues_. I left right after that."

Jones glares at me. "How are they dealing with them?"

"Apparently they're doing it _Traditional Vongola Style_." I give a smirk to how silly it sounds.

He doesn't find the term as amusing as I do.

I chortle before emphasizing. "They're holding one on one battles."

The doctor that was doing mad scientist stuff at a table nearby stands and announces that I'm not poisoned, but that my iron count is low. Hearing this leads me to some serious contemplating about what all the nausea was. It hits me, rather, I feel it. An exaggerated sigh blows out of my mouth as I glare to the ceiling. "Crap… I just started my period."

* * *

><p><strong>October 19th<strong>

My eyes are glued onto the laptop screen in front of me as Stitch and I discuss our upcoming reunion by video chat on my laptop. Though I'm telling him the meeting place, I'm more focused on this email I'm reading. My shipment is about to hit port and everything pertaining to its arrival is squared.

The partner gives his usual confirming response to our meeting place and I only give him an idle, "Yep." Between us is a good wall of silence before I hear his voice again, this time a little more cumbersome. I stop idly listening, my glance dropping to the keyboard, as he brings up how I'm supposed to be killing him in the near future.

"Well what do you suppose we do?" he asks in the calmest of fashions.

_I don't like this._ In fact, Stitch bringing this up is enough to raise suspicion. Regardless of my doubts, I blow off his need to hear how I'll keep him safe and tell him I have stuff to do. He gives a brief goodbye and we get off the phone. While wandering to the closet and throwing some clothes on, I try to justify my evasion pathetically. "Well, I really do have stuff to do…" Mia successfully gathered info on the Vongola fights, and I didn't even tell her to… _She's a genius on occasion. _

I re-read the text she sent earlier and reply back saying that we're going out for lunch. At the same time I'm in the car and pulling of the driveway, my cellphone rings from a new text. I roll my eyes and leave the phone in the cup holder.

The trip to Mia's school is never a long one. I pull up to the front gate of Nami-chuu and see the text is from _hers truly_ asking where to meet up.

[From Dee] At the front gate.

[Dee] Run nigga run.

I laugh and send a couple more.

I chuckle about my retarded texts until Mia finds her way to the car. I lamely keep the joke going for myself, talking to her in my famous _gangsta speak_ the whole way to my favorite noodle shop, but she seems to be elsewhere. So I stop screwing around and start enjoying some udon instead. Seated by the window and swallowing some scallions, I decide to get to business. My eyes fixate on the careless brunette. "I got your text from this morning."

"Oh yeah!" Mia responds, her eyes widening in surprise, "They're fighting at the school tonight, the sun guardians. They're fighting at… Twelve…I think… It may have been Eleven."

I swallow and reply, "Uhh, which one is it, eleven or twelve?"

The girl shovels some noodles in her mouth, chewing them up and shrugging her shoulders at the same time until she finally declares that she doesn't know. I roll my eye and slurp another bite. My instincts are saying midnight. Cool kids brawl when the clock strikes twelve—it's the unwritten law.

Mia's mouth opens to answer, but she hesitates. And her brown eyes hold onto that insecurity as she answers, "Twelve." I can only stare at her, now under the impression that her gut is telling her eleven. It's not like seeing this fight holds any empirical significance to either of our futures, so what the hell do I care. I just want to see some people beat the hell out of each other.

"Fine. Twelve it is. But let's leave for the fight early; we might run into obstacles on the way."

_Ugh, I shouldn't have said fine. It sounds like I don't trust her answer._

Despite my fucked up response, Mia just nods dismissively and averts her attention away from me. I do the same, giving the almost empty noodle house a scan and noticing that most of the lunch hours buzz has left. Most of the clamor that was drowning our conversation from unwelcome ears has left. My cousin and I lock eyes again, and she asks me to explain the guardian-battles going on, since the Vongola is something new to her.

"So what kind of explanation are you looking for?

"I want it all. I want to know why, then how, and finally who. So far I only know the Varia is some kind of assassin squad for the Vongola. But aren't they fighting against the Vongola now?"

I give the shop a brief check for eavesdroppers before responding back in English. "Yes, the Varia is a special assassin squad for the Vongola—they're the best of the best. But more specifically, they answer only to Vongola Nono, who is the current head of the family. Nono created the Varia, and they work only for him. So in a sense, as they are Vongola, they also aren't. You get what I mean?"

"Yeah," she confirms with a nod, "They're an… _independent_, assassin squad—for the Vongola."

"Yep. So if they don't like something going on, per se… someone's candidacy as Vongola Decimo/Tenth head of the Vongola, they can act out. This is advantageous for them, because allied families can't get involved (it jeopardizes their alliance), and so it turns out to be a family issue that has to be handled according to _precedential protocol_." I do the finger quotes on the protocol part to emphasize how rule-oriented the underworld is.

She nods again, only to put forth another question, "But if they act out against the candidate then aren't they going against the boss? That's how the next head is chosen, right? By the current boss?"

I laugh. "Being a candidate and being the actual boss are as different as heaven and hell Mimi."

Before I can continue, Mia aggressively interrupts me. "No. I mean, if they're trying to kill the candidate isn't that like going against the current boss, since he chose him and stuff?"

I then point my index finger to silence her and try to help her see this outside the box. "When deciding candidates, there is never just _one,_ unless the family is small. Big families usually have at least five to twenty candidates." I calmly throw my hands up in question with a cocked brow and question her. "Mia, where the fuck are all the other candidates?" She looks as if she's ready to interrupt me, but my small finger extends and stiffens to shush her. "The other candidates are probably dead. So in other words: candidacy equals war. And all is fair in love and war." I drop my finger and remember something else to add, "And don't forget what that decree from Nono said last night, he changed his mind to Xanxus—the boss of Varia—as his choice for candidato Decimo. Sawada Tsunayoshi is only in the runnings now because his dad, _the external advisor_, wants him to be candidato Decimo."

Mia laughs loud, and goes on a wild tangent about all kinds of things, pretty much yelling at me about things I don't control. Her voice is so loud that I cannot even hear what she's really saying. Everyone in the shop is giving us concerned and worrisome stares. We are the foreign girls in the noodle shop, and we obviously have an issue about something. Christ, do I feel embarrassed sitting next to her.

I snap my fingers to curb her hormones. "Calm down pussycat. I don't make the rules, and neither do you. But the guy that owns this place can freely tell us to get the fuck out for making a scene—like you currently are. Mafia is politics and protocol, Mimi. You smile to peoples faces and piss on their backs, it's the underworld."

She seems vexed by my response; her brown eyes look as if they want to roll as her expression calls me stupid. It really brings the urge to punch her in the face because teenage angst is for lame-asses. The mental picture of her full-figured body flying to the ground makes me smirk something devious. _Don't do it, Alana. She doesn't realize what she's doing. Plus, you'll feel bad about it later, and in turn, will have to go do buy something for her to alleviate the guilt. _

Mia decides to wrap up the conversation. "What's up with the Vongola's power system?"

My head quirks to the side and my eyebrow cocks confusedly. "Pshh, how the fuck am I supposed to know that? I'm not Vongola, nor do I have any desire to be."

* * *

><p>"Time to get up."<p>

Mia saunters down the steps behind me, calling for me to rise, but I stay perfectly still in a passed out position on the couch. My eyes are closed, but my ears hear it all. _Let's see if she thinks I'm still asleep. _

A minute passes before she calls louder, almost patronizingly. I finally reply, "I'm up." _Whoa, there's a frog in my throat._ My eyes open and I chuckle. Then I sit up and shut the laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of me. The room abruptly falls quiet. That is, until the black night outside the window reveals the sound of crickets. One good sigh, and I get up. _It's time to go._

I barely spot Mia in the kitchen as I race upstairs to my room. Same jeans from earlier but a new black shirt with my weapon hidden underneath. Then a glance at the mirror shows the harness bulging under my shirt's fabric. My shoulders shrug; _fuck it_. After a head scratch too, I head back downstairs loosely shuffling my shoulders to get the harness comfortable on my back.

Back on the first level, I see my cousin swirling around on one of the kitchen barstools. I lightly chuckle to the scene and slip my tan moccasins on. Mia only looks my way as the barstool allows in its dance. Her long brown hair is a stream behind.

"Ready?" I ask, opening the front door for both of us to leave.

"Ready." Mia confirms as I walk out the house. By the time she gets out as well, I'm already on my bike and waiting for her. A quick check of my wristwatch says it's 11:25. "You're not going to lock it?" Mia asks while sliding onto the bike behind me.

_Lock? What's she talking about?_ I scan everything around us—our plot of land on the shrine's mountain—I see the front door to the house. I smile. "Nah, I have insurance."

We laugh and put our helmets on, then leave the house welcome to thieves. As the vintage Japanese engine rumbles and bumbles, I think more about the unlocked door and possible robbery scenarios. It makes the ride go by very quick. _I wish someone would break in… steal the good stuff too. Then I would have a good reason to break their fucking neck. _Before I realize, we pass Tsuyoshi's joint.

The two of us carry on; I turn the bike into a dark alley between a few businesses and careen to our destination, eventually parking a couple blocks away from the school. While taking my helmet off, I see Mia saying something, but don't hear any of it. I'm currently bothered by how quiet it is. _There's something here keeping the peace, and it's not girl scouts._

My hand hangs the helmet on one of the bike's handlebars, and Mia slips her helmet on the other. While my cousin messes with her tresses, I grab a pair gloves out of the small bag strapped to my bike and tuck them into my back pocket; _these will probably be handy_.

"So what's the plan?" Mia asks.

My eyebrows furrow slightly, responding in English. "I thought we agreed on no stupid questions in this relationship." _Has she seriously forgotten the one subject we discussed over noodles?_ Noodle talk is sacred shit.

Mia smiles and rolls her eyes. "Seriously, you're the one leading this tango."

A stupid question gets a stupid answer. "Duh, we're off to go get our _edumacation_." I give her a stupid look while pointing to the school a half-kilometer away.

She laughs lightly as we find our way out of the brick-lined alley and now on the street the school lies on. Feet hitting the lamp-lit sidewalk, my gut urges that the trek has already remained too silent, especially for a Mafiosi battle to be in the works. _I'm putting five on there being an illusionist._ Despite my prediction, I say nothing to Mia and lead us down the sidewalk.

Though our feet are silent against the paved walkway, Mia is giving us away. I can feel her trying to hide her presence. That tension you feel in the air from a fighting couple, nervous children, scared hearts, giddy bloodlust. It makes a certain static in the air. What should feel like a surreal sense of tranquility and normalcy around me feels like the fluctuating waves of nervous tension: she's overthinking it. _Well, I only taught her today, so I shouldn't have expected much._

We get to the oddly quiet school and come upon a guard at the gateway that has a new wrought-iron fence bolted into it. _That fence wasn't here the other morning, nor was the guard._ Dressed in a black suit, the giant of a man informs us that the school is closed for the night—we need to go home. Mia stops and stares at the barricade. When we catch each other's gazes, I smile and lead her to a tree far behind us with my eyes. She will do better not seeing this.

The girl, easily taller then me by almost half a foot, smiles to the man before sauntering off towards the tree. The sentry guard's eyes watch her for a moment and then come back to me. I turn my body to face the cement wall blocking me from the school and put my gloves on.

He says nothing.

One grin to him and I begin jumping onto the wall.

The copper skinned man moves his body in front of me with ease, catching me before I can even begin to grasp for the ledge. My grin never moves, but my hands do. With his hands busy holding me, one of mine goes for his shiny brown locks and the other goes for his cleft chin. Twist. My hands feel his neck cracking. In that moment that his body hasn't realized he's dead, I take a deep breath. Then we drop.

I drag the guard's heavy body to some nearby bushes and now notice bright lights shining within the school. They're bright like the stadium lights you see at sport venues or in school gyms. I also notice the new wrought-iron gate is gone. _Five points._ He must have been an illusionist; there are probably more. I blow the hair out of my face and run over to where Mia is.

Back up the sidewalk and around the corner, I find Mia already up the tree I signaled her to a moment ago. Almost leaning on the cement wall bordering the school, the tree Mia is crouched on has plenty of branches to choose from, but I climb onto the one my cousin cautiously rests on. I stare inside the school for people guarding nearby and tell her that there are illusionists present. Of course she doesn't know what I'm talking about, so I take a moment to explain illusionists and how dangerous they are. I hate them; they're like roofies, except they don't have to hide in your drink to fuck you.

Now aware of the secret assholes known as illusionists, I remind Mia how we have to be extra careful with them because they can attack from anywhere. Her eyes become a little crazed, as if I just mind fucked her, but I soften the blow with a little postitude. Looking towards the school, I say with a smile, "At least we know where to go."

She chuckles until I point to the best building I can find for watching this match. "We'll spy on them from that building. The higher we get the less likely they are to see us."

"The doors are looked after hours," she replies, "And if they're unlocked today it's probably not a good idea to go in them."

After an incredulousstare I crack the fakest smile. "_Hello my name is Mia, and I like to state the obvious._"

Like some kind of idiot, all that comes out of her are "uhs" broken by pauses and huffs of a nonexistent counter. In those pauses between her noises I hear something else. I mask my presence immediately and hone my sights to direction of footsteps almost hidden by the soft ground they are walking on. Mia's noise disappears, and the sight of pink hair and tanned skin appears out through the leaves and branches. I watch as the model-like figure strolls towards us, her eyes masked like a bandit. _She looks like one of those Cervello from last night. _She doesn't see us yet. _I won't let her._

Ten feet from me and still unaware, I launch.

My reach for the lanky woman's slender neck misses, gripping her jacket collar instead. The girl's small palm smacks my arm forcefully, breaking my grasp on her clothing, and she quickly springs back from me evasively. She then speaks to me with a flat-toned yet feminine voice. "Interference is not allowed. Those not invited to this event are to leave at once."

I don't respond; _I need to end this now._

"By decree of the Ninth Vongola Boss, interlopers of this private event will be penalized."

My hands pull my hair up into a small bun, before one hand slyly unfastens the weapon hidden under my shirt right after. It takes only one finger to pop the clasp under my shirt collar. The woman speaks again, only with more aggression. "Explain your reason for entering the premises, representative of Jones." _She must have finally noticed the chain, seeing how my hair is no longer in the way._ Though the pink haired girl is now hissing in a harsher tone and radiating in aggressive intent, I keep steadying my focus in silence. I won't miss her this time.

"Your silence and intrusion shall be penalized." Her hand moves.

I dash to the girl who's reaching behind her back and reach for the weapon hiding behind mine. Closing the gap between us, I see her now aiming a gun at me. My foot fans up, kicking her wrist in the circular motion. The gun flies and skids against the paved walkway nearby, and the girl makes a split-second shot for my neck. I jerk my body back from her hand, but stop to the sounds of rustling leaves, skidding feet, and a familiar voice yelping. Mia has entered the battle via body slam—with no target except the cold ground. It looks like the ground won. The Cervello girl snaps her attention to the long-haired brunette who's making no sound whatsoever. I instantly bust out laughing at Mia, but still stab the Cervello in the neck with my fan.

Mia is pinnacle of silence as I yank my weapon out of the tanned girl's neck. My laughter is the only other sound present besides the wind. Looking away from the klutz face down on the ground now, the Cervello's veiled eyes showcase panic as her gaping mouth makes no sound. I thrust the unopened fan into her back, aiming right for her kidney. She gargles instead of screams, and her knees buckle from under her. _"That should do it," _I quip while catching the featherweight damsel in my arms. Then I toss her over the fence.

I hear the soon to be corpse thud against the ground on the other side of the fence and walk over to Mia. Rolled onto her back now, her eyes are glued shut with a twisted expression that is dancing on the fence of groaning or crying. I look away shamefully and crack up all over again. But I do it soundlessly, since it would be messed up to break her silence with my laughter. Thank god too, next thing I know, I see her sitting up.

"Are you okay?" I asking, trying so hard not to laugh.

The brunette looks up to me, her big brown eyes and full cheeks begging for sympathy, but I can only start snorting in laughter all over again. Of course, Mia tries to look hurt from my reaction, but starts smiling. A whiny and laughable "no" escapes her in the process. It's times like these I wish I had said something really ridiculous and witty to say. Instead I keep the thought to myself and offer her a hand, ignoring the fact she spit on herself in the midst of her reply and wiped it off with the hand that she's using to grab mine.

With a small tug Mia rises off the ground and dusts the dirt off her. The light shinning behind me suddenly dims a little, and I check to see only the school behind me. My glance didn't help shit.

Mia takes this moment to interject. "Back to our earlier conversation, how are we supposed to get on top of the building?" I look back and shrug my shoulders. I have no desire to go play James Bond anymore. Hiding bodies is tiring work.

"Ehh, let's just go in the school and find somewhere cool to watch this."

Her eyes shoot me a disbelieving stare. She lingers on the look for a good second too. Finally she asks again with her tone full of cynicism, "How do you purpose we get in? And I might have mentioned this earlier, but if the doors are unlocked it may not be a good idea to go inside." Of course I can only smirk, wanting to ask her why she insults me so, but raise my hand and shake my head. I tell her _I got this_. Her tone stays dubious, answering with, "If you say so… I'll follow your lead."

I nod confidently. "Then let's move."

All around is the sensation of danger and lust for the kill. It amps me as I stride to the school doors and slide my motorcycle key into the school door's deadbolt lock as far as it will go. Then I kick the key as hard as I can, jamming it in and breaking the lock. The sound of shattering glass masks my noisy move; the schools grounds have darkened a little more too. Twisting the key inside the now broken lock to unlock it, my hand easily pulls the door open. Mia looks stupefied.

"After you princess," I sarcastically declare.

She looks like she has no idea what just happened.

A small chuckle escapes me as I give up on courtesy and walk inside the school first. My feet scuttle towards the nearest stairwell, where I hop two by two up the steps. Two presences are getting closer, but neither feels dangerous. _They're moving… they must not sense us. _The sound of Mia's feet are echoing behind me. I look up and down the hallway of the second floor, the walkway blighted with blinding luminescence, before deciding to go up one more level. _The lights probably won't be so bothersome on the third floor._

My tan moccasins and Mia's tattered brown tennis are lightly tatting up the steps, but we make no other sound. Even as my foot lands on the third floor it remains hushed, transitioning to a quick stride into the first classroom on my left. I slide the door open only enough to enter and wander past the rows of empty desks to the windows. They are hinting of an event taking place under them. My brown-eyed cousin is at my side at once and peering out the window as well. It looks as if a 'Traditional Vongola Battle' is one that takes place in a caged boxing ring (with cabled reinforcement). The contest looks a lot like the MMA fights El and I used to order on Pay Per View—only this one is way more deadly. I smirk.

Pointing to the fighters inside the arena, a shirtless schoolboy currently lying face down in the center of the ring and Lussuria proudly standing above him, I inform Mia. "The older one wearing the sunglasses and the atypical hairstyle is Lussuria of Varia. He's a very skilled Nak Muay (muy thai fighter). From what I know, he's assumed to be the oldest of the seven leaders."

Her eyes focus on the fighters caged with one another. She smirks for a second, but then frowns at me. "Assumed? You can't find these guys?" I'm about to respond when Mia then blurts, "Are they better than you?" She smacks her mouth shut with a look of regret.

Through the window, four people now reveal themselves on the school grounds by closing in on the fight that is showing no progression. I try focusing in on the two young looking girls, one young boy, and one man that I immediately recognize as Iemitsu Sawada. While realizing the boy (the stinky boy fighting Squalo the other night) is the one that was with Iemitsu last night and realizing one of the girls is Kyoko Sasagawa, I answer Mia finally. "It's not a matter of finding them, everyone knows where they are, but only an idiot would go spelunking where monsters sleep. And yes, they could probably kill me."

In my peripheral I see her head cock. "Spelunking?" Then her tone lightens to a joking one. "Probably? Being a little cocky now aren't you."

_What the fuck is up with this fight. Instead of chatting with that Kyoko chick, white-haired kid, you should be fighting to the death._ My brows furrow to the anticlimactic fight before thinking about what Mia says and snickering. "I could kill one of them if I ever got a chance at a killer cheap shot (which would probably never happen), otherwise I wouldn't even attempt a fight. The greatest survivors know which battles to fight. Oh, and you're an idiot if you don't know what spelunking is by the way; Google it."

The white hair kid picks himself up and winds back for a power hit, Lussuria readies himself to start fighting again. Just as they are going in to hopefully beat the hell out of each other, Mia jokes, "Well, sorry. We can't all piss excellence. And I thought the greatest skill would be running away." We both pause, watching the lean school kid punch the hell out of Lussuria's knee. Something shatters in the process, I'm thinking a knee plate.

I cock my brow to the Varia leader that drops like a rock onto to the boxing ring's floor, writhing like he's in serious pain. Without even thinking I pull out my phone and take a picture of it, smiling like the neighborhood bully who just made 50 bucks beating up all his punk ass neighbor kids. _This is one is going up on the picture wall of awesome_.

Where the middle school boys are watching the fight, a toddler being carried by a bird and the two girls are leaving towards the school's main gate. Their pace is quick. I find the action odd, but center my attention back on the arena.

The Varia leader is forcing himself to rise up to the young boxer who has his hand outstretched to him, as if the fucker owes him money. Mia's eyes are aglow with fascination. Her bloodlust is beginning to ooze out, as is mine. Lussuria is up and in stance to still fight with his profusely bleeding right knee when I hear Mia's voice again.

"Wait. Do you guys get hits for other hitman? For example: would your boss give you a mission to kill a Varia member?"

My mouth opens to answer, but a thunderclap of gunshots is the only sound to be heard. The shots are ear wrenching, something I wasn't expecting, and they were fired by someone I haven't ever seen before. A killer robot stands on the Varia side with smoking fingers. "Who the fuck is that?" I instantly question. That wasn't someone in those files I received, and I'm sure our society isn't so advanced that we have robots for the Mafia's disposal.

The questionably dressed Varia leader, Lussuria, lies motionless on the ground for all to see, and I notice Mia backing away from the window like a skittish cat. Her legs keep stepping until they bump a desk slightly, where she just sits herself down in a panicked daze. _Shit, Mia's freaking out._ I glance out the window again to the caged ring, where one of those pink-haired Cervello girls is guarding Lussuria from the middle school Vongolan. _Those Cervello must be officiating the fights._

"I never signed up for man killing robots."

I look back to my dazed cousin and retort objectively, "I told you this. Varia will not hesitate to erase a weak link."

Loud booms flood the campus, the cage that swathed the boxing arena is now collapsing to the ground, but Mia's frenzy can still be heard over the booming and crashing. "Man killing robot!" The full-figured girl springs off the desk spastically and cries, "We need to get out of here!"

Outside, the Varia has made their exit leaving their young opponents to congregate freely. Kyoko Sasagawa is running back over to them as the white haired boy starts making his way off the stage. Seeing that it's still not a good time to leave, I try and coax her a bit. "Mia, chill. The robot and Varia have left, but it's not a safe time to leave." I raise my hands to her in a calming fashion. "We need to sit and wait for the right moment."

Her response is calm, but exaggerated. "Man-Killing-Robot."

I roll my eyes.

"But yeah, we should stay a while so we don't get noticed leaving."

And now I just shake my head.

Turning away from Miss Melodramatic, I catch those little Vongola boys walking away from the battle location towards the school's main gates. That suited Arcobaleno toddler is casually strolling with them, as if he is one of the pack. They continue on, never looking back to where they had just experienced an extremely lucky win against a ridiculously strong opponent. But it's that little Arcobaleno toddler that bother's me. _I know there is one that is pretty much Vongola Nono's right hand and also the strongest of the Arcobaleno, but which one is that one?_

He's one of seven, but it only takes a run-in with one to end up screwed.

Some time passes before I feel safe leaving. Walking out of the dark, empty classroom, I tell Mia to keep a few paces behind me in case I happen to walk into trouble. "If someone finds us—run. Run like fuck, and I'll keep them busy. We'll meet at the nearby train station." Though I can't sense anyone close enough to be inside the building, I have no idea what's waiting for us outside. Mia doesn't seem too keen on the idea, but she goes along with it and keeps her distance.

We tread down the steps like naughty little children up past their bedtime, our eyes trying to see everything at once. I'm feeling a bit stupid for putting Mia in such a dicey situation, but there's nothing I can do it about it now except get her out of here alive. In a time faster than what it took to reach the third floor, we get to the bottom of the stairs. Mia is slithering off the last step as my hand pushes open the door I broke earlier. I freeze.

Iemitsu Sawada is right in front of me.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>  
>Sorry for the hiatus.<p>

**Word Count:** 7,251  
>[I do not own any KHR characters, obviously]<p>

If you like this story, read _And There I Lived Among the Clams_ by Ausumist  
>same story, but in Mia's POV<p>

.Captain.


	7. Not So Sneaky

**Chapter 6: October 19****th**

Looking at the Iemitsu Sawada, jumpsuit man in front of me, I stand still with a guilty smile and hands raised in surrender. "Oh my god, Tachibana did not say anything about a creepy guy watching the school." I close my eyes and start forcing some fake tears to go along with my continued guilty hands and expression. "I am in such deep shit."

The blonde looks down to me with a cocked brow. "And why would someone be on the school grounds so late at night?"

I look left and right at the empty school lot. Then I cross my arms childishly. "I'm not saying anything."

I make sure to close my eyes and slightly turn my cheek to him. A small sniff of the air suggests his strong scent of leather, driftwood and beer.

"You know being on school grounds this late is a violation of school rules, not to mention that you defiled school property…"

"Defiled?" _Like I have any idea what the word means._

The very muscled man points to the door behind me. "You broke the door."

"I found it like that." _Jesus Christ Alana, do not laugh at all!_

An amused curl appears at the corner of Iemitsu Sawada's lip, but he remains ornately serious in his reply. "I wonder how a young student learns such behavior?"

I sigh. "I blame it on all those violent TV shows these days… I mean, really. If I had not been up so late these last few nights watching them, I wouldn't be breaking into the school to stea—I mean to act like those vigilantes I admire so much."

The man at least a foot taller than me steps closer and reaches for me with one hand. Shit—_school gate is fifty meters away to the right; the fence is ten meters in front of me_.

"Ah!" I yell, smacking his hand away. Then I say, "Stranger Danger," and punch his dick as hard as I can. I'm hoping that one of his balls just explodes in the process as I run away from the falling man. I dash towards the stone wall surrounding the campus and leap. The gray barricade vanishes, as well as some of the empty lot next to it. Feet on the ground and running like hell, my presence fades advancing to the train station like Mia and I agreed upon before leaving that third floor classroom. I cross the lamp lit street and watch one lamp die out. _Ugh… that is suspicious,_ I surmise entering the darkness of the alley. A leap to one building, taping off of it to the opposite roof, I 'm on top of the high buildings of Main Street.

_That was too fucking close_…

My thoughts keep repeating the phrase even as I sit at the station bench waiting for Mia. The fluorescents above attract every living bug in existence it seems, and the bugs try to mistake me for a lamp in the process. It pisses me off. The bugs also seem to like the green trashcans, too. I just breathe calmly and try to get as comfortable on the old wooden bench.

"That is so kind of thee!" I hear a familiar voice exclaim in the distance. _She's not alone… she's speaking English._ Not wanting to be seen by whoever is with her, in case it is someone I've recently seen, I hide behind a lit up advertisement board nearby and listen to those approaching me.

A few moments pass in near silence (thanks to buzzing lights and bugs alike), but then light footsteps of one resound. The other person is light on their toes, but not afraid to be noticed seeing as I can hear his arms sway against what sounds like a denim material. Back against the warm plastic billboard, I stop breathing and completely disappear.

"I have not received thou's name yet. My own is…"

"Thy name is Basil."

There is brief, transient silence of words but movement of bodies until the Mia says, "Farewell Basil, may thee have good fortune on thou's journey home."

The smile was clear in her tone, and her helpful counterpart, Basil, abruptly leaves the station. It's when his swaying arms can no longer be heard do I start to breathe again. Then I encroach on my cousin. Alone on the platform, she seems lost in some kind of fantasy with a ridiculously cheesy smile and a pair of sparkly eyes. _I wish I had something to throw at her; that reaction would be hilarious._

Instead I think of something witty as I get within three feet of her. "Ya done planning you dream date with _Basil-tan?_"

After one good second Mia jerks wildly to my voice, her eyes bigger than gumballs. "Whatthehell!"

My smirk grows into grin as I add, "The height of plum-blossom viewing, one of those rental boats, you two drifting romantically in your little white dinghy eating a lunch you bought at the convenience store…"

She replies, "Thou is cruel… Thou is cruel."

I laugh evilly. This is the only way to let her think everything went okay.

_I better laugh now, I might not be alive long enough to laugh more._

* * *

><p><strong>October 20<strong>**th**

There was a restful night's sleep rudely interrupted—mine—by an unwanted phone call somewhere around nine or so in the morning. It is this phone call that has me back in Tokyo, inside that one grand hotel, and inside this suite my boss has taken residence in for who knows how long now. Once again, I'm sitting across from my boss' breakfast table and staring out of the giant window beside us. Tokyo tower. It so badly wants to be the Eiffel Tower, but that will never happen. Some dreams can only be dreams.

"Are you listening?" The old man sitting in front of me says sternly.

My eyes trail back to his slightly sunken face and tapered haircut, noticing that he doesn't have very many wrinkles for being almost as old as Vongola's Ninth. Those bright green eyes are waiting for a response. I clear my throat. "I am now."

He switches to a glare.

"What?" I rant. "How can you expect me to be happy coming to Tokyo this often, especially this time after you woke me up and didn't even let me eat breakfast?" Then I smile and add, "And let me just mention that beauty of this degree requires beauty sleep."

"Beauty? You'd have to sleep for a month for that."

I cackle to the insult. _That was a good one._ But jokes and banter cast aside, Jones wipes his mouth with fabric napkin and tosses on the first class breakfast in front of him. He sniffs in a large breath of air with that slim, strait nose of his. My mouth salivates and my stomach churns… I'm soo fucking hungry. Hungry enough to eat butterflies and grass and maybe even eel… No, not hungry enough to eat eel.

"Your hit in Sado coming up, there is something else I need you to do there."

"Yes?"

A manila folder slides in to me. I flip it open to see pictures of a glasses wearing man. In every photo he has a distinct black briefcase of sorts. Whatever is in it is a decent size, something like my arm length. After sifting through the photos my hand rests on the table and I look up to the tall man sitting across from me. "You want him dead?" I ask.

"No." Elbows resting atop the small clothed table, his long finger intertwine is if in prayer. "I want that briefcase."

"And what about the guy?"

He smirks. "Break his left hand."

I let out a small chuckle. "Feeling a bit vindictive, eh?"

He doesn't respond.

"Okay, what should be in this case?"

Jones eyes become deathly. "It doesn't matter what is in the case. Just get it to me without a single scratch."

My brows rise. "Ho ho! Okay, I won't delve… shit."

The man rolls up the pressed sleeves of his white shirt and abruptly rises from the table, telling me I am dismissed. But I make it known quickly that while I am here I need some information from him. Still sitting oh so comfortably, Jones looks down at me with an interested gaze. I quickly get to the point, like my uncle taught me. "I need you to tell me about the Arcobaleno… again. I also need some description on what they look like and shit."

"I already told you about them."

I look away guiltily. "And I didn't listen."

"Why?" he questions curtly.

I look back to the annoyed boss. "Well, you were like _stay away from toddlers wearing pacifiers_ and in my head I was like, _okay_. And then you started saying more, and I was thinking, _wow this is really boring who cares about gunslingin' kids_, and just stopped listening."

"I spent a good hour telling you and Eleazar both about them."

I smile. "And I can't quiet remember what I was thinking about during that time, but I assure you it was probably valid."

His lips are pressed tightly against each other, his flexed hand looking ready to smack the shit out of me. _I deserve it,_ I muse to myself but refuse to say out loud. _I'm really surprised he hasn't smacked me yet._

Thankfully Jones does not smack me, doesn't even touch me, and gives me a quick and easy Arcobaleno 101 lesson. They're a group of seven toddlers known to be the greatest of their trades known to man. _Bullshit,_ I immediately think. Though they are technically a family of their own, the members pretty much do what they want and assist other families. Reborn is strongest of them all, the number one hitman in the world and recognized by everyone. Reborn is known to be in very close relations with Vongola's Ninth Boss, and he recently tutored the Cavallone's current boss, Dino. _Interesting._

Verde is an astounding scientist that can create anything. He works independently and hates Reborn. Skull is the weakest of the Arcobaleno but possesses the uncanny ability to survive anything. He has joined the Carcassa family that is affiliated with our own. Fon is a martial arts master, but follows the normal practice of masters and lives a peaceful life in southern China. Collonello excels at military combat and tactics, his specialty being his sniping ability.

"Sniping ability?" I question, intrigued.

"He makes Lee Harvey Oswald's clean work look like amateur hour."

I nod approvingly and listen as he informs me that Collonello works at Mafia Island and is rumored to being affiliated with CEDEF. I smirk to the thought and then let him tell about me that their leader Luce, who disappeared years ago and is assumed to be dead, and Viper, a telepathic child whose whereabouts are currently unknown. I pay attention for all the information now knowing it is not unimportant bullshit. I yawn, growing tired from my hunger.

"I will send you photos of the ones we have photos of, along with photos of their animal partners."

"Which one do you not have photos of?"

"Fon, Viper, Luce, and Verde."

I snort and look at Jones dubiously. "Animal partners?"

"Each one of them has an animal partner they keep with them."

"Strange."

Jones walks away from me, talking to one of his bodyguards in a hushed tone and is handed a phone. I scratch my head and rub my face before standing and making my exit. With my back turned from him I quickly slide the razor blade I had hidden in my cheek out and slip it into my bra. Then I hear Jones stop me. "Wait a moment." I turn my head back to him.

Off of the phone now and standing alone in the living room area of his temporary headquarters, the slender man shakes a cigarette of the pack that has magically appeared in his hands and grabs it with his lips. He sets the pack on a side table, grabs the tiny matchbox on the table and quickly lights up. The cherry on the tip burns a bright orange, and when Jones blows the smoke out he decides to talk. "So how is the ring scramble going?"

I smile wide and lift a finger up to pause him. "Good. And I have something you will like seeing."

Walking back over to him, I show him the picture of Lussuria bloody and on the ground. His pleased grin has smoke and evil creeping out of it. At this point I tell him that the Varia shot him down for loosing and that there will probably be another fight tonight. "Good," he replies, "I hope to hear and see more about this tomorrow."

_If I'm alive tomorrow… _"Yep. Will do."

I make a quick exit from the hotel going over my mental list of things to do today: _steal a lock-picking set, workout, read over that Vongola stuff more, and food. _A nice smelling chauffer asks me where I would like to go, and before I know it the man pulls up to the corner and I realize that I'm not quite dressed for the weather. Nevertheless I get out of the car and casually walk to the small sushi joint, yanking the door open happily.

"Tsuyoshi, I'm back and hungry," I declare nonchalantly before realizing I'm not the only one here on such a dismal looking day. The younger, strapping version of Tsuyoshi is sitting at the bar eating something that surprisingly isn't sushi.

Takeshi Yamamoto looks back to me with a smile, obviously entertained by my boldness. I smile at him and say hey before apologizing for my entrance.

"No problem," the happy fellow chirps in reply. "Dad's in the back grabbing ingredients." He then stands. "I'll go fetch him."

I raise my hand to stop him with a smirk. "Don't bother. I wouldn't want to rush him in any way; I have nothing pressing my time today."

He nods wearing that same smile. "Okay then. Can I get you something to drink?"

I joke, "Do I have to pay you?"

He laughs and I chuckle along before letting him grab me some green tea.

Drinking my tea, I catch Takeshi Yamamoto's brown eyes glancing at me. For this I give him an exaggerated stare with squinted eyes until he laughs again. Finishing my tea I ask, "So how goes the kendo?"

He looks at me blankly. _I think he forgot I was there when he asked his dad for lessons…_

"I was here when you asked your dad the other day."

"Oh, right," he says with a nod. Then he mentions I was wearing a Nami uniform and I instantly snort in laughter.

"Yeah, I wear disguises occasionally and play super secret super spy." Right then, as he swears himself to secrecy of my doings, his father comes in. Tsuyoshi has his hands full with scallions, ginger root, wasabi, and wooden bucket of cooked rice. He instantly notices me and gives me a cheerful hello before he chides his son for not telling him he has a customer. I shake my head with a smile. "Don't be mad at him; I told him not to bother you. I have an open schedule until later this evening."

Takeshi stands and walks to the back with a now empty plate as his father hands me a plate of salmon nigiri. The sushi-ya and I talk get on the subject of Salisbury Steaks, and I tell him how my dad used to make them for me all the time. Tsuyoshi listens and replies, his hands working on the rest of my lunch.

Picking up the nigiri by hand and popping it in my mouth, both Tsuyoshi and I listen to footsteps racing down a hidden staircase of wood. Out of a doorway I've never ventured through in the shop appears Takeshi with a jacket on. "I'm heading back to the dojo, pops."

"Be careful and practice well."

"Yeah," he replies in a confident tone. The tall limber-looking teen then spares me a quick smile and I give him a nod back. _What a cutie_, I can't help but think. _It would surely be a travesty for him to die in the next few days._

I look back to Tsuyoshi and say, "What a handful. I can only imagine how much you will enjoy the high school years."

Tsuyoshi gives me a seemingly patient look with a confident smirk. "He is going to be a great man."

"I can see that."

The sushi man and I chat a little longer about various things, like our health and the weather. He chides me for not being prepared the rainy condition outside. "Dressed in short sleeves in rain like this, you're going to get a cold if you aren't careful."

And I wave the warning away. "I have lived in places that have close to 200 days of rain a year, wearing t-shirts all the time and only light jackets in the winter. I'm just a different kind of person."

"Your were blessed with good _genki_."

I nod. "That, I was."

I finish everything I ordered and make a quick exit, wishing him luck in training his son and for both of their health. One of them is going to need it.

My stride is calm in this steady rain as I prowl down streets and alleys alike towards Namimori shrine. Outside smells of nothing but fresh water, the city becoming a clean slate. My feet squish on the newly forming puddles as I search on my phone for local locksmiths. As I stop walking to wipe away the raindrops on my phone's screen, I feel something grab my shoulder. The hand easily shoves me into the brick wall next to me. _Iemitsu Sawada._

"Defiling school property and scouting on other families…" The blonde wearing that same jumpsuit from yesterday lifts his hard hat slightly to show me a pair of golden brown eyes. He pokes the chains around my neck with his free hand. "Jones has himself a busy girl."

I scrunch my nose cutely and smirk. "Who said I was doing it for him? Can't a girl just simply want to watch people beat the shit out of each other?"

Iemitsu cocks his head to, the raindrops sliding off his dingy plastic helmet. "Is that what you think it is?"

I scoff, "Call it what you may, but that is all it is."

The muscled man stares at me deeply for a moment. "I should kill you."

Knowing opportunity when I see it, I raise a brow. "You could, but you would be destroying the chance of a lifetime; we have a common enemy, you know?"

"And that is?"

I smile, loving the taste of revenge. "My boss."

* * *

><p>I told myself tonight would be different. <em>It is different. It will be different.<em> The rain from earlier has not desisted, instead it has become colder. It has soaked through my dark blue track jacket, but its raw bite on my skin feels good. I take a big sniff of the brisk air and become more invigorated.

Another gust of wind blows atop the gymnasium building Mia and I are standing on. Well, the one I'm standing on and she is sitting on 'indian style.' I hear her wringing the freshwater out of her hair and remember that this is not her environment—she's from the warm South. I smirk and begin focusing the lenses for my binoculars.

After running into Iemitsu today, I'd be an idiot to get too close to the charade.

_I can't believe he let me go…_

I dwell on that expression of his as he stared into my eyes, those very cut muscles all over his body. _If he wasn't a blonde I would totally be attracted, if he weren't married I would consider letting him buy me a drink. _He stared at me so intently before saying, "We'll be in touch then, Dee." Because of that statement alone I had to watch him walk away; in fact, there was about five percent of me ready to shit my pants. He knew who I was the whole time.

I pull the lenses from my face and glance upon the watch on my wrist to see it is three minutes until showtime. In the corner of my eye is a small troupe of umbrellas floating to the school. Giving the rain blockers an attentive look, I see four umbrella holders and a little boy in red galoshes. Tonight, Lambo has joined the Nami boys for this Traditional Vongola Battle. I can't even imagine why they would want that snot-nosed brat to tag along. I pull the binoculars up to get a better view.

As the young boys enter campus, they are intercepted by some Cervello and told something. Lightning strikes—a massive strike that blinds me for a second—and the boys file into the school towards the battleground already laid on top of the roof at the south end of the school's west wing. My attention moves, and I see that Levi A Than is still standing in the exact place I first spotted him when we arrived ten minutes early. I don't even think he has twitched.

The boys are still somewhere in the school as I inspect the contraption that the Vongola has laid out on the roof in front of us. Like I told Mia when we first got here, it is like a spider web shaped like a hexagon. At the outer points of the web are these poles shaped like lances that have been attracting electricity; there is another one of these lance things at the center of the field. As they bring in the lightning, the web, which has to be some high quality conduit wiring, charges and electrifies the whole space. It's a death trap. It's claptrap. It's goddamn retarded.

_Why can't these guys just fucking fight to the death like normal people? Rules, playgrounds, appointment times? The Vongola are a bunch of candy ass bitches._

Right after I think this, those boys make it to the roof. Another bolt of lightning strikes the playing field, and the rest of Varia (minus Xanxus) appear too. At this time I also realize the Arcobaleno, Reborn, is here. Sitting on Takeshi Yamamoto's shoulder, he is wearing a tiny trench coat over his suit and pacifier necklace. His little animal partner, which I've been informed is named Leon, sits calmly on the bill of his black fedora. I want to take a picture of the little guy, but refuse knowing it could compromise Takeshi.

Then I see it. I see the silliest thing since… the invention of silly, perhaps. The group of Namimori students, plus a five year old, form a huddle and shout, "Lambo Fight! OHH!"

I hold in a silent chuckle while I am reminded of a song I like. Then I just start singing out loud the exact part their little huddle reminded me of. _I can't accept that it's over. And I will block the door like a goalie tending the net, in the third quarter, of a tied-game rivalry. _

In the midst of song, I watch the shortest teen of the group, Sawada Tsunayoshi, get down on one knee and talk to the little boy. It seems like a heart to heart. _Cute._

"What's with the baby and the kid?"

I stop looking at the roof and look over to my cousin still sitting on the ground. The hoodie and jeans she is wearing are soaked. I wipe some rain off of my face and point to the school. "You mean the trench coat baby and Lambo? I'm not sure, really…"

For some odd reason Mia thinks it wise to ask the same question a couple more times, I guess not realizing that I would give the same answer each time. I hear the brunette eventually huff and say, "Fuck it." I just laugh and watch the little boy named Lambo walk away from his babysitters and over to the Cervello who looks like the referee for the night.

_Wait. __**He **__is fighting tonight?_

My hand holding the binoculars drops to my side as I whine, "Aw, man. This is not what I was hoping for." I look over to see my cousin staring at me with worrisome eyes. Seeing kids die is never cool. It reminds of jobs I never want to remember. "Do you want to leave? I kinda have no interest in seeing kids get killed."

"Are you sure he can't win? I mean, why else would he be there? Why not forfeit if he couldn't win?"

With the binoculars attached to my face again and watching the little afro-haired boy play with the wiring on the ground. "I don't see a five year old having the umph to kill somebody." _And if he wants to beat Levi—or live—that is exactly what he will have to do. _

Levi is already inside the danger zone now and ready to kill on this cold and wet night. Lambo, the hilariously bratty kid I met only a few days ago is across from him without a worry in the world. Lightning strikes, teenage boys yell, and a little boy is electrocuted some thing fierce. I didn't see him do it, but Levi dodged the charge and now lands on the ground as his opponent falls face first. I hear Sawada Tsunayoshi cry Lambo's name loudly. Then I hear his classmate sitting next to me ask, "Shouldn't you stay? So you can report this to your boss?"

Rain tapping all around me as I mull the idea, I see the little boy twitch ever so slightly. _He's alive?_ _Maybe Mia knows more about this kid than I assume. Jones would also want to know how this fight ended. _"I guess you make a point."

"UWAH! IT HURTS!" cries the little boy wearing a burnt up cow costume. He writhes and whines until he is finally standing. Mia whispers a declaration of relief, and I can't help but mention how amazing it is that idiots never die. The kid never gave me the impression of being smart, so the idea fits.

Of course, idiots rarely win either, and Levi dashes over to the crybaby, kicking the shit out of him and whacking him with one of the six lances he always has strapped to his back.

I can't pull my eyes away from the child trying to get up and the man trying to kill him, but Mia starts saying something about the Vongola at the same time Lambo shoves his hand into his hair and pulls out a purple bazooka a little bigger than himself.

_No… couldn't be._

Under the cold, pouring rain a little boy commits suicide… and a giant cloud of purple smoke covers where the green-eyed boy once sat. Levi stops in his tracks.

The thick smoke twists and swirls in a hazy rush to reveal an older boy sitting where the child once sat. Just like the little Lambo, this older boy has deep green eyes and thick, messy black hair. Just like little Lambo, the older boy is wearing cow print too. I grin wildly, knowing exactly what has happened.

"HEY! WHAT THE HECK?" screams Superbi Squalo. "THERE'S AN OUTSIDER IN THERE!"

Right after I hear Mia mumble, "Am I crazy, or is that?"

But I can only pull the binoculars away from my warming face; my excitement is to the brim. The ten year bazooka Jones told us about really exists, and I got to see it tonight. I lift my hands in excitement.

"I am geeking out." Then I point to the bazooka for Mia and happily exclaim, "That is **the** Ten Year Bazooka. That thing is _legendary_." Then I finally point to my favorite cousin. "You were a genius in suggesting we stay."

With her naturally curious expression, she asks, "Does it make the… victim… ten years older?"

I begin my spying on the main stage again to see the ten year older Lambo chatting nonchalantly and wasting his five minutes of time here as I tell Mia she is correct but tell her a better word instead of victim is user. The boy I'm assuming is 15 is still chatting while Mia and I engage in a small argument over which word is better, until we agree that the other person is wrong. I slide in that big boobs don't equal one's intelligence in regards to diction.

Then the death match starts up again. The ten-year-older Lambo draws in the next bolt of lightning that strikes upon the roof and absorbs like some kind of electric transformer. He lights up like Christmas tree and runs towards the Varia leader in the lousiest electric attack on the face of the planet. It is so easy to read that an amateur could dodge it. I refrain from shaking my head and watch Levi react with a counterattack that consists of those lances fastened to his back flying out around the fighting ring and open up like umbrellas. As if beckoned by the Varia leader, lightning strikes the floating metal umbrellas and shocks the older Lambo. The kid drops to the ground. _I guess he can only take so many shocks._

Levi doesn't stop there: the teenage Lambo is getting himself up slowly, allowing himself to be stabbed by the infuriated man wearing a signature black trench. He drops down to the ground again and looks as if he is crying. _Are you fucking serious?_ The crybaby then grabs for the Ten Year Bazooka near him and shoots himself with it. Another cloud of smoke surrounds the ever-changing Lambo.

"Twenty-year-older Lambo?" Mia asks, surprised I think.

I, on the other hand, am not impressed. "Wo-ho. Someone's getting older. _Way to bitch out_."

Though I keep the appearance of being unimpressed, the heavy feeling of adrenaline rushes to the air 'this' Lambo is radiating in. This is not someone to be fucked with. I declare, "Woah, that guy makes your blood rise."

With that same thick hair and signature horns on his head, the Lambo twenty years from now radiates in sheer power. He is garbed in slim pants layered in thick belts, a thin shirt, and a brown leather jacket that goes down to his knees. The fur lining of his jacket is matting in the cool downpour, but this seems to be of no concern to the man. He looks back to the teenage boys behind him, giving them a brief glance before picking up something off the ground. A chain of sorts.

"Die!" screams Levi, launching his umbrellas out again. It looks like that same attack from before. Lightning strikes the metal looking umbrellas and immediately shoots the accumulated joules to the Lambo now twenty years older. If it wasn't for that, lightning even strikes the lances that surround the electric field and shocks the Bovino man too. _I think it is easy to say that he is dead meat. Crispy dead meat._

Well, I think this until I see the guy stand up looking as bright as a light bulb. It looks as if he requests Levi's attention before slamming a hand into the ground and discharging all of the pent up energy onto the building, shattering all the school's windows in the process. Iemitsu and Basil take the moment of clamor to enter the rooftop arena from the roof's access doors and stand next to the Namimori students and watch the apparent ending of the fight. _If Lambo does not win at this point, then God is a crueler dude than I ever imagined._

Levi charges towards his opponent with a swift, unreadable presence shouting that he will kill Lambo no matter what. His thrust is perfect, but it does not pierce; Lambo blocks it with something he grabbed on the ground. A pair of horns? Either way, the two back off from each other and prepare for another attack: the older Lambo switching the horns he is already wearing for the ones he picked up and Levi switching umbrellas with a meticulous check of the weapon's condition. I am already getting somewhat bored of the two. _Someone kill somebody already…_

"Thunder Set! Elettrico Coronatta!" roars Lambo fiercely. Lightning came upon the horned man like freight train and wasted no time in shooting out of the guy's horns like electric lances. They stretch and grow to close the gap between the two fighters. The light between them grows and grows, showing a green-eyed man with eyes of clear intent and a certain Varia leader quickly becoming covered in his own blood from the shocks. Levi is walking on the line of death as he trudges into the attack. Then poof. A purple cloud of smoke covers the two fighters.

"What the fuck!" I damn near yell in my native tongue as the tension dies, just as quickly as it came.

"GUPYHAA!" squeals a little boy covered in high wattage.

Then I realize what has just happened. "Oh shit." As the heavily burned preschooler collapses to the ground, I'm left watching and thinking _that five minutes felt like forever. _Levi lumbers to the crisped veal that unmoving and soaked to the bone.

"Someone's glass of luck just ran dry."

Mia asks, "But why did he turn back to a little kid?"

"Because it is the ten-year bazooka, it has a time limit."

"He's gonna die." Her normally audible voice is now comparable to a mouse's.

My small eyes then trace back to my cousins large ones, larger than usual and in a state of horror. Not really knowing what to do, mainly because I don't want to see her cry, I grab her shoulder and try to be conciliating. ""You met him once right? Did ya like him?"

"I guess. Yeah."

"Then he was a great little kid."

Mia's mouth gapes open for god knows why, and her expression twists to one of pain and god knows what. It looks like a face I have seen Shrek make before. I laugh, and then she laughs, and now we are both laughing. _Jesus Christ, I was not made for doing this kind of shit apparently._ Now we are laughing about some kid about to die when I was just trying to be nice.

And like sadistic bitches we keep smirks as the little boy is stomped on repeatedly by Levi's thick, heavy boot. The boy is stomped, slashed, and laid out for a bloody finish as Levi charges his umbrella to kill the boy full of so much potential. Innocent teenagers yell stop and Squalo yells for Levi to burn the kid into a crisp. Mia says that we need to stop this, and I tell her no; we are only spectators in this parody.

Levi is ready to stake the benign little lump when some orange light zips all over the field. All of the poles within the fighting arena then crash to the ground and stop all of the lightning magically. There is a small haze of smoke on the field, and I focus my binoculars on it to see under the haze is a group of orange flames—flames emitting from Sawada Tsunayoshi.

_He is on fire… literally._

This form, this alter ego of the pansy kid I happened to meet a few days ago, is so astounding that I cannot even begin to think of even one adjective to describe it. I snort lightly and shake my head to the word that finally fits: stirring. Something in my chest bursts, my mind clear. _This kid is onto something big._

Whatever he did to become that… is evolution.

And I refuse to fall behind.

I want to bask in this awesome new thing I am witnessing, my curiosity like an empty cup I'm ravenous to fill, but instinct flips a switch telling me that bad shit is on the rise. "Mia," I call, not sure of what this fear I am near quaking about is. Binoculars falling to the metal roof under us, I watch something whack Sawada Tsunayoshi hard. He skids across the roof like a skipping rock, and the man everyone fears decides to crash the fight party. Xanxus.

In one motion I grab the binoculars, grab Mia's slender wrist and move. "We got to go. This place is no longer safe."

Wet and drippy, we enter the house and strip. Mia takes off her hoodie and an undershirt and throws them in the bathroom, I think. I kick off my wet shoes and jacket and leave them where they lay. After a quick squeeze of my wet hair, a whip it up into whatever bun I can manage.

My tall cousin reappears and we head into the kitchen. "Well it is easy to say that this night calls for a beer. Mimi, would you like to join me?"

"No thanks."

"Milk?" I ask, not wanting to drink alone.

Her tone lightens to slightly happy, "Yes please."

I walk over to the cupboard and look at the cups. "Big or small?"

"Big."

I look at her after grabbing the big glass with a brow cocked. "How bold."

She cracks a smile, almost giving me a chuckle.

I send the glass of milk to my exhausted partner sitting at the kitchen's island and then grab myself a beer. After one taste I realize that it is not the drink of choice for the evening. I set it down and make and gin n' tonic instead. Mia looks more content after each sip of her godly drink. I keep swigging, waiting for miss rosy cheeks to finally say something to wake this silent house. Bright lights can only do so much in this big kitchen.

"That was one of the scariest night of my life."

"I wouldn't deny it, especially with Xanxus entering the arena oh so suddenly. " I take a good drink and watch the brunette's pensive expression. Then I continue. "That guy, I didn't even feel him coming… He just appeared like magic. Like a goddam wizard or something." One more drink to celebrate the things I witnessed this evening, and I finally add, "Damn that ten-year bazooka was so cool, I'm _so_ gonna steal that thing from him."

Mia wipes away a milk mustache before playing Jiminy Cricket, reminding me that stealing from the Vongola is dangerous. I tell her that I don't care. _I want it. I will get it. Manifest destiny._

"Well, just don't get killed."

I grin. "Pssh me? Never. They couldn't kill me if they tried. I'm like a fucking cockroach."

The busty girl's body language blatantly admits that she doesn't believe me, like I'm a weakling in the scheme of things. She may be right, but I refuse to admit it. I won't be weak. My ladder is ever growing, simply because I refuse for it to stop growing. I want that fire, too. Those flames of Sawada Tsunayoshi's take all of my attention until Mia says, "Being around him was just insanity. I don't think I've ever felt like that before. Or twenty five year old Lambo. He chilled my blood too."

"That's power," I reply with a brute smile. A quick gulp and I can't help but ask, "Exciting, isn't it?"

"Has the mafia always been like this? Unreal?"

My head tilts, not sure what she is asking.

"Have these impossibilities always been possible within the mafia?"

Looking down at my clear drink, I watch the millions of tiny bubbles climbing to surface only to pop and disappear. I smile wide to her question, and I look into those curious eyes knowing that soon she will be just like me. Hungry.

"Of course. It's usually the most curious who are the most evil. And birds of a feather flock together."

And her hunger starts. "Then what does that make us?"

"Curious."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

word count: 6,687  
>[I do not own any KHR characters]<br>Thanks to my co-author Ausumist for beta-ing the story.

If you like this story, do read the companion story _And There I Live Among the Clams_ by Ausumist. It's the same story, but in Mia's POV.

**- The Captain**


	8. Storm Radio

**October 21****st**

"Ohh, I made this a tad bit strong."

My eyes fixate on the large plastic cup I brought with me from the house. I pincer the big red straw, stirring my gin and tonic inside a little, ice cubes clunking loudly. The high sun glints off of the cup's clear lid and shines in my eye. I just ignore the flash and stir on. Another hefty sip, and now the motherfucker tastes great. "Ahhh, eleven o' clock!"

Outside in an alleyway (and very close to my bike I left sitting around a few days ago) I wait for the locksmith that I have called to 'unlock the back door to my shop.' A quick check of my watch says he should be here in about ten minutes. I look for any stains or markings on my royal blue and white rattan shirt, focusing on the white part that covers my torso. After another slurp of the concoction I'm rubbing the white tips of my fake nails, wondering it is time for an acrylic refill. To my left I hear a car pulling into the alleyway. _It sounds like a four cylinder… a Toyota? _My eyes finally lift from shiny nails to see my guess is right. _I'll drink to that._

"Ohayo gozaimasu," says the humble-looking man getting out of the car. "Are you the one who called to have the lock picked?"

I stand immediately, brushing any debris off my light skinny jeans and then giving him a quick, nervous-looking wave with a sweet smirk. In a lighter vocal tone than my normal one, I say, "Yes! Thank you for getting here so quickly!"

The man with hair of salt and pepper quickly hobbles to me with a large toolbox in one hand and a clipboard in the other. He kneels in front of the lock and inspects it keenly. Well, as keen as he can with chinked eyes. "This one is a hard one to open. I might not be able to make a key for it."

I chirp in my calculated tone just for strangers, "Oh, you won't need to do that. My keys are inside."

"Oh," he says with a nod. "Okay."

The toolbox to his right pop opens and reveals all the tools I need and more. The man grabs a tool (something I recognize) that looks like a small earing piercing gun and attaches some little metal piece to it while grabbing another tool I recognize from my lock picking research. He slides both small, metal doodads into the keyhole and goes to work, wriggling one tool and making loud clicking sounds with the other upon every trigger pull. I pay great attention to his every move for when I practice this later.

When the middle-aged man finally gets the door open, I glance inside the toolbox one last time. _This looks like everything I could need and more._ "Uh, young lady?" he asks politely, probably waiting for a response. Pressing my fake fingertips onto his scalp, I stare into the man's small, dark eyes with a sultry stare, slyly raking my fingers in his head of hair before smashing his face into the brick wall in front of us.

_Did I do that too hard? _My head tilts, staring at the man and his bloody forehead while checking his pulse. _Nah, he's alive. _The gesture of making his brain say 'goodnight' was light and only enough to subdue like I go, his body plops to the ground like mush. The blood slowly oozing out of the point of impact is thicker and darker than normal. My head nods as I speak my thoughts out loud in English, "Dude, you are seriously dehydrated."

I pull a wad of cash out of my back pocket, sifting and counting the paper bills before dropping them by his head. _That should cover all of this stuff._ I snatch the stuff out of his loosened hand, pilfer a few guidebooks out of his car, and walk away with all of his tools happily.

I whistle a small tune before leaping to the rooftop opposite of the unconscious locksmith. I trot a few steps, skip over an alleyway gap, and walk a little more in cheery spirits, drink still in hand. There inside the alleyway I remember so clearly from days prior is my bike and more. My body instantly moves into a crouch, my mind already knowing to hide my presence from the individuals I see. Down below me—street level—are two forms I have seen before. One is a young man wearing a crown atop a ridiculous bowl cut and a familiar black jacket, the other is a very small body enveloped in a black cloak with two small white stripes down the hood… Both proudly wear iconic Varia Leader patches on their jackets that contrast in design. They seem to be in the middle of a conversation while performing a hit; the dead body splayed out in front of them on the asphalt below says everything.

"I don't care about politics because I'm a prince."

A man in thug-like clothing runs into the alley screaming, "VA-VARIA! How dare you kill my brother!"

The prince of the Varia duo, a kid formally named Belphagor, says with that he knew this guy (in lame sunglasses) would come if he killed the younger brother. Apparently these brothers became famous recently because of their precision in theft. I cock a brow, pleased to see something so interesting occurring around my very expensive Ducati.

"DIE!" screams the older brother, pulling out a thin, spiked at the tip mace to attack Prince the Ripper. I don't even have to read his profile to know this assassin. He made his presence in the mafia world clear before he even joined Varia a year or two ago. This nutcase kid is no one to play with.

The supposedly popular thief swings his mace and the prince dodges easily. Belphagor makes a trifle statement in the meantime, before revealing knives that could only be custom made, throwing four and somehow slashing his opponent into pieces. _That doesn't even make sense,_ I think to myself while watching the Varia member grin like a fox. My eyes follow the boy wearing a loose-striped shirt, now very curious of his nifty knife tricks. I watch him more as he crouches down next to _my_ parked bike, hotwires it in less than a minute, and speeds off with his Varia partner I know as Mammon.

My head tilts and my mouth even gapes. "Are you fucking serious? Did I just watch myself get robbed?" I look to the sky and rant more. "Jesus Christ, is this karma?"

I look at the empty alleyway with a furrowed brow. It seems my cup is empty, too.

* * *

><p>After getting home from school, Mia informs me of Lambo Bovino being hospitalized at a place called "Nakayama Surgery." Though I was in the middle of practicing my new skill of lock picking (achieved a mere thirty minutes ago) on the front door's deadbolt, a few minutes of researching the hospital reveals that it barely reopened three weeks ago by a person of the name 'Romario Caballero.' I snicker at the ridiculous pseudonym and know immediately that the Cavallone family is getting involved in the Vongola's ring scramble.<p>

My cousin of fair skin, rosy cheeks and thin brown hair down past the middle of her back tells me that she is unsure of what to do about what Kyoko Sasagawa has told her about Lambo. Still kneeling in the entryway of the house, I look up and reply, "Buy some flowers and visit the little kid. I'll come too, considering that this an advantageous time to steal a certain bazooka from a person in particularly restful sleep."

She looks down upon me with an expression I can only call patronizing.

"I only need five minutes in that room alone." _I want that bazooka and that kid's medical charts._

Mia reminds me of the danger like a long lost parent before suggesting that we take a box of flowers. "The box would be a very useful thing to hide a bazooka in."

I smile and make my plan. "Good idea."

Inside the small hospital, we walk up to the second floor where the children's unit is. After we are led into the room of a certain cow-boy, thanks to the nurse at the nurse's station, Mimi knocks on the door before leading us both into the room of white and gray. I'm carrying the massive box of flowers. We give ourselves one last look before gazing at Lambo's guardian: Nana Sawada, a pretty, young looking woman Mimi told me about on the drive here.

Showing a regretful frown and a pathetically furrowed brow, the caretaker keeps a sad but positive look about her. It is like she knows that Lambo will be okay despite the oxygen mask covering his face and the bouquet of electric monitors keeping the hospital staff informed of his critical condition. Sawada-san is sitting right next to Lambo's side as Mimi and I bow our heads to the mourning mother properly.

"Hello Sawada Nana-san," we both say in surprising unison.

The woman with a youthful appearance stands up and bows slightly with a rattled look. I don't think she was expecting us, really. That is, until she replies, "Oh, hello. You must be Fernandez-san."

"Yes, and this is my cousin. Desma Fernandez."

I don't bother to correct my idiot cousin.

This mother of soft-looking brown hair greets us both nicely, and I offer to 'set up the flowers' while Mimi talks to Miss Sawada in private. The two leave the sullen room immediately, leaving me to get to business. In less than a minute the white chrysanthemums Mia chose line the large windowsill of Lambo's room. Their powerful scent quickly begins to overpower the various chemical scents that waft in the deathly room. In that same minute I move to a certain little boy lying in his hospital bed that smells of iodine, a sixty four percent solution of alcohol, and bleach. Still wearing those horns from the night before, the boy is now garbed in a small hospital gown too. He lies motionless on the bed under thin blankets. I follow his exact movements from the night before: my hand slips inside his afro'd black hair.

"What the fuck?"

Inside is like a large purse; I can feel many things in there, but they all feel gross and sticky. I grab a handful of trinkets and lay them next to the sleeping boy. I continue grabbing handfuls of filthy, sticky things… candies, toys, a watch, a .44 caliber semi-automatic (that I instantly tuck in my pants), issues of weekly shounen jump, a board game, grenades (_taking those, too_), a Nintendo ds, and folded papers of undecipherable doodles. He is probably the grimiest kid I have ever touched, but amidst all the nasty is a purple bazooka that is one of a kind. I dig around more, finding the bazooka shells needed to actually send myself into the future and shove them all into the large box.

I spit into my hands sticky with candy residue and rub them against my jeans roughly. My watch says I only have three minutes. So with hands still a touch sticky I pull out my iPhone and grab his hospital chart, taking pictures of every page to read later. Learning of the damage this kid has actually taken from that fight with Levi will be useful to know.

Page by page, I click a quick photo while trying to sense where Mia is from me. All of the scents of various plastics, bleached sheets, pressurized oxygen, and bodily odor are starting to hurt my nose so I stop using it. I can't get a feel of anything behind behind that thick door, so I will have to assume that she will be walking in within the next minute. I hasten my photo taking, getting a picture of the last page as I hear the metal doorknob twisting. I zip myself over to the chair next to Lambo (where the box full of new goodies is), smiling in irritation of my still sticky hands. Mia walks in first with a brooding look, Nana enters with a look of surprise.

"Oh wow!" says the youthful looking woman.

The mourning mother instantly thanks the both of us for the flowers. I smile and tell her it is no problem. Mia seems to have caught my desire to leave (the clue being my smile) as she says, "Unfortunately, we have to go. There is a roast in the oven."

I add, "Yeah, we don't want to overcook that thing."

Sawada-san looks at the both of us with a listener's stare before reply, "Of course, of course. You should always eat a good dinner." She nods with a thankful grin. "I'm sure Bianchi is feeding the kids right now."

"Well that's nice for them," we both say, almost synchronously.

The woman lets us leave with a happy smile, and we both leave with happy smiles.

* * *

><p>The ticking clock keeps requesting my attention. Standing at my small desk with the laptop flipped open, I glance at the map and flight details of my soon to be taken trip to Sado. I print them out and slip the pages in my back pocket. Then I look to the tan canvas backpack sitting in my desk chair. Half-packed with various tools that are usually handy on jobs, I grab the manila folder full of Vongola family profiles on my desk and slip it inside as well. My reading material on the train. The clock behind me says that it is eight twenty in the evening. <em>I've got plenty of time.<em>

I look around my slightly messy room, picking up shoes and clothing I have left all over. I even pick up all the trash on the floor and put away the millions of blankets lying on my often-used couch. Part one of my normal routine before jobs is complete. _Now for part two_; I zip inside my closet and pull out the metal fans I will be using later and start cleaning them. Sitting on the cold cement floor, I take out my cleaning rag and get to work. After a minute or two I hear a slight knock.

I call, "Yep?"

"Can I come in?" asks my cousin behind my red door.

"Nope!" I reply in jest.

"Uh… Okay?"

I chuckle. "Come in."

The door opens only enough for her Marilyn Monroe like figure to get inside and closes right after. She looks upon my weapon cleaning for a second before strolling over to the white couch covered in various little stains from life and sits on it like someone would sit on a grassy hill. I just continue rubbing the fans down before grabbing my sharpening stone and grating on fan's many pointed tips with it. The motion becomes a beat in my head that reminds of a song. Thoughtlessly I begin to sing, "Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the rabble… and go back to sleep…"

Mia interrupts my singing, requesting me to break into the school and change her grades during the fight tonight. I cock a brow and show a crooked smirk, not sure if I should be shocked that she thinks this way or amazed at her genius idea. _I would have never thought of doing something like that in high school… _then again, I wasn't ever the cheating type. I look at the clock whose hands are pointing to eight fifty seven.

I give a light snort before saying, "Doing it during the battle isn't a good idea, we are likely to run into a similar incident like what happened the night before last."

The broad chested girl shifts her shoulders fluidly and counters by asking, "Then how about before."

I look at the shiny metal fan in hand and check the sharpness of the tips. _They're good._ Then I look at my bag. _Have I forgotten anything? _I tell myself no and then pull my phone out of my back pocket. _I haven't talked to Stitch yet… he should be arriving in about three hours…_

My eyes shift back to Mimi. "Go get ready. We'll go and do it now. Just let me make one phone call."

"Okay. I'll go get ready then." The rosy-cheeked girl says while springing to her feet. She almost skips out of the room with the grin of a mischievous child. I watch and wait for the metal door to close behind her before rising from my spot. The fans are slipped back into their harness and then placed in the bag. As I am closing up the bag, I set my phone to call Stitch's and pinch it between my head and shoulder.

"Hey this is Dee, just wanting to remind you to meet me at Narashino docks. In case you forgot, take the train from the Airport to Narashino, get off at the Shinnarashino platform. The docks are 5 blocks west from there. I'm sure you'll find my ride from there. Toodle loo."

I hang up and slip the phone in my pocket, setting my bag down right next to the door for later and grabbing a couple basic tools from my newly stolen toolbox. Slipping the picking gun, attachment pins, and tension wrench into my back pocket, I look over to the coffee table sitting in front of the dirty couch. "Oh shit. The listener…. I almost forgot it."

My hand snatches the small bag containing a listening device I acquired some time ago; the thought to use it and hear what is being said at these fights didn't really occur until today. So I will be taking advantage of it now. I sling the black satchel, along with the body harness next to it, over my shoulder and race out of the house.

Of course, Mia is ready to go right when I am. We get to the school ten minutes past the hour and notice that the campus of Namimori is completely dead. The buildings are as empty as a drug addict's savings account. We zip right to the locked front doors. I kneel to the ground, wriggle the pick and click the tumblers right, and get the door open. My stopwatch tells me I got this one in three minutes. _I'm getting better._

Mia looks absolutely impressed by the skill and I feel impressive. We slink inside the silent building and I promise to teach her how to do it tomorrow. Part three of my pre-job routine is in effect: make plans to come back to. _Who the hell has time to die with a busy schedule_?

Skipping behind me, the clever genius tells that we need to go to the Teacher's Room. It is a hop, a skip, and a jump away from the front doors, just past that part of the school where everyone changes into their classroom slippers. The door to the private room for teachers is locked as well, and I quickly break in there so my thunder thigh cousin can mess her records up.

She is quick and focused, editing documents on her teacher's computer and rewriting forms at the same time. There is a single pause as she slides her thin brown hair behind her ear; her hand fluidly wanders back to the computer mouse and goes back to clicking. I just keep quiet and alert for the soon-to-arrive Cervello. I also hold the flashlight.

"I'm on the last page now," she murmurs, eyes still glued to the bright computer screen. I take a deep breath and then get the feeling something is close. My eyes squint to try and focus on this instinct, but I don't do it for long. Not even a minute passes before unexpected booms, bangs, and thuds occur somewhere above us. I click my light off and look at the door as I hear Mia loudly sliding the mouse across the table in her panic. The computer light goes off. Over and over the bangs and clangs transpire (one constant sound being one of those drills that have to powered by an air compressor). Over time the sounds encroach to our location. _Whatever it is, it has to be on the third level considering how muffled the resonation is._ A good twenty minutes pass before it feels safe to leave the room.

"It's time to go," I whisper to the girl behind me. She is oddly wearing the most elated of smiles. The two of us slink out of the room like cats and let the moonlight beaming into the hallways lead us to the back stairwell those Nami-chuu boys used to get to the roof last night. With my ever-successful cousin following without a care in the world, I decide to make a pit stop on the third floor and investigate.

Every light on this floor is on, the brightness hard to adjust to immediately, but I dart to the first classroom I see. Upon sliding the hollow, wooden open I see a giant metal box that somewhat resembles an AC unit, but most definitely is not one. "What the fuck?" I ask myself. _AC units are taller than this thing, and they are not shaped like 3-d trapezoids_. I inch closer to it, hearing a peculiar sound. I kneel next to it to hear the faintest tick inside the metal contraption and smell gunpowder and dynamite casing. "They can't just have a normal good ole fight to the death, can they?"

Pulling my wallet out of my back pocket, a grab a steel credit card shaped square to start loosening the small screws I see. My cousin almost gasps and exclaims in a loud whisper. "What are you doing?!"

Focused on prying this machine open, I reply. "Seeing what it is."

After getting it open and setting the metal side on the floor tenderly, I slightly duck my head inside the metal box full of foreign parts and see two full sticks of dynamite attached to a timer. Though the thing is not activated—yet—the timer is working like a charm, I guess. "Fuck, we're getting out of here."

"What is it?" she asks while scurrying next to me. Her curious eyes answer her own question. After a quick nod to one another, we start putting the thing back together. _Wait, I should take a photo._ I pull out my phone and take a quick photo, the iPhone taking a clear shot with its quick flash. "Let's go!" Mia whines in a whisper.

With the siding and screws all in place I tell her we are going to the roof. She smiles and requests that it cannot be anywhere with a bomb under it. So in lieu, I lead us to the exact place where Levi and Lambo fought last night, only we station ourselves behind the roof's access doorway at the building's edge. The spot has a clear view of the other side of the school across the way, especially since everything is lit on the third floor (where I'm assuming this fight will be taking place).

Mia lies on her back, looking at stars while I pull various items out of the bag. First I grab the harness sitting at the top, slipping it on and checking to see it's all in place; then I grab my binoculars and check to see what is going across the way, but only see two Cervello talking to each other casually; and then I grab my listening device out of the black bag. Looking like a thick mp3 player with a long microphone on top of it, I search for the place to plug my headphone splitter and then plug in both pairs of headphones I brought. While doing a quick diagnostic test on the small device, I engage my stargazing cousin in some small talk, finishing up part three of my before work routine.

"So hey, you want to maybe catch a movie in the next few days? That one movie you were telling about comes out tomorrow."

Mia's head turns to me, her eyes inquisitive with an excited smile.

Then I add, "We should go get food and pedicures before it, too."

I start focusing the microphone's range while the brunette lying next to me seems to mull the offer over. Adjusting the sensitivity of the device a little more, the pink haired girls a fair distance from us are clearly heard in the headphone shoved in my left ear. They are talking about the battles. The battle for the storm ring is tonight and the battle for the rain ring is tomorrow. Though I don't understand why these matches are titled this way, it seems pretty cool. _So what? Last night's battle was for the thunder ring?_ I smirk, thinking this kind of sounding like a new age Captain Planet.

_Wait. Who's supposed to replace that Indian kid with the heart ring?_

Before I can answer myself, Mia finally agrees to the date, and I shiver a little to the unexpected passing breeze. I look up to the starless sky for a second, before telling Mia that I will be leaving town tonight, for a night or so. I look back at the eavesdropping machine.

"Or so?"

My eyes look over to the girl fiddling with the binoculars. I shrug before replying, "Probably just a night." I don't mention any more of the details. _'Rain battle.' _My brain goes back to the Captain Planet battles._'_

She rolls her brown eyes and I slightly push the headphone in my ear (I think I just heard something). A small breath slips past my lips as I close my eyes focus. Many presences show up at once, scouring the campus below us. Then my lids open and I see five figures clad in black—one of them being the asshole that stole my bike—inside the school. I turn the device off. "Varia is here."

In doubt of my claim, Mia questions my ability to sense the Varia, and I remind her that I can easily sense the subordinates. All may be quiet on this Eastern front, but the silence is a lie; evil lurks all around us. I hand Mia a pair of headphones to listen in and tune out, hopefully getting her to naturally erase herself from this rooftop like I am. After informing her that Varia subordinates are crawling all over the place, she quips, "Sounds like an infestation."

Laying myself on down on my stomach, I reply, "An infestation of roaches, maybe," before putting the other headphone in and turning the listener back on. It spits out nothing but white noise for a moment before relaying the voices of two women informing the Varia leaders that their opponents have ten minutes to arrive. _Eh, ten minutes. Got some more time to chat_. I look back over to my cousin. "Dude, my helicopter just came in. I'm gonna fly it tonight."

"Do you know how to fly a helicopter?"

My excited grin stays despite the insult. "It's easier than driving."

She nods with a thoughtful look. "Be careful then."

And like a tidal wave my excitement over the helicopter just gushes out, every part of it that I held inside myself until now. My lips become loose as I tell her about the amazing machines in detail until she inquires as to why I need one. I'm almost flabbergasted; how could I not need one? "Because my job requires me to often fly away and I rather use my own means than somebody else's."

The girl beside me nods and goes into thought mode again until our headphones voice the entrance of Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi, and two others. One catches me as a surprise, the one that said "Gokudera-dono." _That's the Basil kid that was with Mia at the train station. _I whip the binoculars over my eyes and see the kid that was fighting with Squalo before and standing with Iemitsu Sawada times after. _So that is Basil. _The fact all of the boys present are worried about where Smoking Bomb Hayato makes it very clear he is the one fighting tonight. _Now I get to see if this guy is really an easy kill like Jones said… if he shows up._

"Sorry for the long wait, Tenth. Gokudera Hayato has arrived."

_Finally. Shit._

the ring scramble officiates are prompt to explain the battlefield for this match is the entire third floor of Namimori and explain those metal boxes are hurricane turbines that will begin exploding one after the other if neither candidate has won the match after fifteen minutes.

"Hrm? What was that sound of windows shattering just now?"

My eyes widen. _Is that who I think it is? _I literally smack myself with the binoculars slung around my neck, seeing none other than that sex-fiend Trident Shamal. He is standing behind both Cervello women, copping a feel on each one's breasts. "Is anyone hurt?"

Both girls elbow him harshly, knocking the disheveled man to the ground. He rubs his head clumsily and tells them that they're okay while sneaking glances up their miniskirts. As the older and, from what I've heard from other assassins, washed up man wearing a doctor's white coat drunkenly stumbles to get himself up, the smaller Varia leader Mammon explains how Varia tried recruiting Shamal a while ago. Shamal finally stands himself up, waves at the Varia members and declares that he is on Sawada Tsunayoshi's side.

"Dino, Collonello, plus Shamal… Why are such skilled people gathered over there?" Squalo asks gruffly. "What on earth is going on?"

_I wonder too, Squalo._

Of course, the pointless chatter returns to the scene. I drop the binoculars and listen to them pang onto the stone ground while the team circle is discussed. Eventually the huddle comes and goes, and the Cervello separate the fighters this evening. Obviously Smoking Bomb is in the arena, but I am unaware of his opponent until he speaks. The evil trill of "Prince the Ripper;" the psycho genius kid, the motherfucker who stole my vintage Ducati. _Oh I can't wait to exact some revenge on that kid._

The Prince exchanges kind words to his opponent, an action I find disturbing, and hear someone pat the other. I wouldn't ever let my opponent touch me. Though I know this is part of the broadcast I should be listening to, Mia's pulls my attention away with a question. She wants to know who will win the fight. I look over to her and answer frankly. "I haven't anything great about Smoking Bomb Hayato. But I've heard many a great things about Prince the Ripper."

"Oh."

The headphones slowly moving out of position sound off the match's start by the Cervello. Right after the signal comes the boom of a are wasting no time; Mia seems unconcerned by it all, like its just television. "So… Trident Shamal is my school nurse. And he constantly hits on me."

"Triple Bomb!" yells the bomb user. A moment of silence follows until a loud, ear-pounding gush of wind blares through the headphones as I chuckle to Mia's new conversation topic. "I'm not surprised," I reply. Mia goes on to tell me about her privileged school life, Thanks to her loving nurse. Her every story that is told makes the death match across from us matter less. Belphagor is telling Hayato that he can read air currents at the same time I'm telling Mia that Shamal only wants that cherry between her legs. "Oh, and he definitely wants to motor boat the shit out of you."

"Or flip my skirt," she adds, the detail giving clues to another memory of the infirmary.

I share a memory of my own. "He likes to rip panties off girls too."

Indifferent and unconcerned, my cousin keeps a smirk as she shrugs her shoulders. "What a perv."

_No, just a man,_ I tell myself. Then I remind myself how we all get a little crazy for an orgasm. I let out a small, silent snort. I think about Eleazar for a moment. The crazy parties, the crazy sex, the crazy missions… _Can I really—_

Shattering glass and chaotic static caused by the hurricane turbines for the fight kill my thoughts and kill all awareness of what is going on in the battle in front of me. There are only the occasional building shakes from sporadic bombs exploding and the scent of gunpowder. A call for "Gokudera-kun" is yelled by Sawada Tsunayoshi at the exact moment a pane of glass shatters; something dense hits the floor. _Is Smoking Bomb dead?_

"This is your techniques true nature," says the boy I thought to be dead.

"String!" Yells Sawada.

_So he's using strings… those things must be really thin and sharp… able to slice through bodies with ease. It's the only way to explain how he killed that thief earlier._

The Varia leader doesn't give Smoking Bomb any praise for only figuring out 'fifty percent' of his technique. Instead he laughs and questions what he will do to win with all of this wind around. The wind starts up again, but Sawada's questioning cry of 'bomb' can still be heard. I close my eyes and listen to the wind, listen hard to the faint rocketing sound. BOOM! The building trembles a little more before the next pungent wave of casing and gunpowder smells waft over. A small draft of wind whips the tress around us, and our earphones echo eerie giggles from a certain prince.

"It's blood!~~~ It's blood of the royal clan!~~~"

"What the fuck?" Mia questions in a disturbed manner.

Our shit brown eyes meet to what I know is the proverbial shit hitting the fan (for Hayato). "Shit is about to get real. This kid goes nuts when he sees his own blood."

_Shit._

My ever-curious cousin wants to know more, so I tell her the background story of Belphagor I have learned from word of mouth and his Varia profile while the battle continues without us. She seems intrigued by his insanity, I feel like he could easily fit into our dysfunctional family. Prince the Ripper's past makes Mimi smile a pretty smile, one full of wonder, and at the same time the Cervello announce that the hurricane turbines will start self-destructing in six minutes. I smile too, excited to know that both of these boys might die tonight.

_Wouldn't it be swell if a big fish like the prince could die and disappear from this ocean of assassins? _I lick my lips and silently wish upon the twinkling north star to my left. Then I hear Sawada say Hayato Gokudera has moved to the Library (and it only has one entry point). I shake my head.

"Gokudera is planning to decide the match," says an unfamiliar voice. A child, but not.

"Or make his final resting place…." I mutter to myself.

Wind, bombs, angry yells and sinister laughter flood our ears from the two teenagers fighting in the library.

"The counterattack begins~" chimes the black-coated prince. It seems he has a plan. My assumption feels more right as I hear interesting dialogue on Sawada's side.

"But don't you think it's odd?" says the same unknown voice from before.

Trident Shamal responds. "Aa… It looks like he's deliberately avoiding his vitals."

_The prince really does have a plan._

The hurricane turbines finally take a break, allowing me to hear something big knock into a wall of sorts. Hayato Gokudera then tells himself the fight is not over. But like a cunning fox Bel tells his opponent that everything is finished before another staking thump sounds. Everything stops.

"Gokudera-dono you can't stop moving!" yells Basil.

Sawada adds, "Hurry up and run!"

After a couple more yells and wails, Trident Shamal speaks in that calm and unaffected voice of his. "So it was the knives after all."

The other intelligent voice of the group speaks, calling Belphagor's attack 'kamataichi' or whatever, after hearing it so many times, this unknown and somewhat child-like voice, I an starting to assume it belongs to the Arcobaleno Reborn. He and Shamal go into great detail explaining the Varia leader's fighting style before the teenager simply laughs and proclaims. "Checkmate."

"You…" Hayato's rough but still pubescent voice is void of fear. As his teammates cry out hints of his own counterattack of gun powder lines trailed all over the ground, I immediately think that Jones was wrong about this kid. "If the strings are slack, then they can't cut can they?"

A giant blast sounds off in the library that makes the building rumble good. Hayato Gokudera then uses Belphagor's own wires against him to guide some lit bombs right to their intended target. As a final blast quakes us all, Smoking Bomb has on last thing to say to Prince the Ripper.

"This is the Guardian of the Storm's attack of raging waves."

Trident Shamal gives him a remark of asshole perfection just before Smoking Bomb Hayato says the fight is over. I smirk at the twinkling stars above Mia and I, listening to the Cervello remind him that the fight is not over until he takes some ring half (that Belphagor has, I'm assuming) and reunites it with its other half. Annoyed grumbles slip out of the amateur assassin's mouth. The Cervello remind him more. Time is ticking: three minutes remain.

Then he bumbles. I cannot see the boy I remember having silver hair and green eyes, but rubble and trash decides to start moving around for no reason, and Gokudera's friends start yelling out his name in worry. Shamal adds his own chatter to the mix, too. "Getting that dizzy from that degree of blood loss... Come on, come on. Get it over with and we'll drink a toast. Ah, yes, call up Bianchi-chan too."

The mentor's words seem to spark some life into the wobbly teen. "What the hell are you saying at a time like this!? You ero old man..." I can hear the guardian candidate take a few steps in the library he was just fighting for his life in, before all I hear is his voice again. "What an idiotic face...Genius? Don't make me laugh." His tone is hushed, yet it still contains an edge of teenage arrogance. "I'd really like to make you take them back, all those disrespectful things you said about Tenth. But… Seems like I was able to be a little useful."

The buds in my ears are silent. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, before unexpected sounds startle me.

"Ahaa! The winner will be me!" Screams the Prince.

"Why, you!" Yells Smoking Bomb.

The struggle continues between the two assassins, both boys at their wits end with one another. Commentary from Belphagor's Varia companions gives the impression that this Prince will die before he loses. Yowls from Hayato's friends give the impression that he intends to do the same. If both die tonight, I will be colored impressed.

"The appointed time has arrived."

_Yes._ I take a big sniff of the crispy clean air and smile.

The Cervello women remind all of the audience of the bomb sequence again, this time telling everyone the library will be exploding in about a minute. And then comes the first bomb explosion. The ground under Mia and I rattles, my adrenaline begins to race a little. Holler and squabble from teenage boys follows. I shake my head to the sounds of Hayato's back seat drivers, trying to tell him how to fight like football fans screaming at a television. But soon enough Shamal tells his student to forfeit, and all of the talk of being bffs and happy memories just kills the moment for me.

"What a bunch of saps," I mutter to myself.

Finally the library blows up. _I really hope someone died_. The kids are still whining for their precious 'Gokudera' and every Varia member present remains poised and quiet. A small voice, like one of a child says, "Look over there," and the boys all cheer Smoking Bomb's name. I laugh to the one who calls him 'octopus head.' Of course Hayato comes off upset that he lost, but none of them seem to care. After all of the mushy, unnecessary crap talk that has made this event a half-cup of boring Hayato tells Yamamoto that the rest is up to him. Like the cute kid he is, Takeshi's response is simple and assured. "Got it."

"Ugh," I say out loud. I then start stretching before I roll myself over to lie on my stomach now. "That was a lame ending." The Cervello are declaring the Varia the winners. I let out an exaggerated yawn and rub my palms together to ready myself for Mia and I's upcoming exit.

Squalo's loud voice booms through the ear buds "Heey. What a laughable ending," he says smugly. I laugh at how awkward and creepy the statement sounded. "With this your lives are finally guttering like candles in the wind."

Laughter bursts out of me. "Was that supposed to be an attempt at being poetic?" _Hahaha, nailed it._

My cousin lying next to me chuckles a little whilst the Varia leader known as Mammon reminds the middle school boys that their 'Mist' and 'Cloud' guardians have not shown up yet. The idea of all of the Vongola guardians being related to various weather attributes just sounds silly to me, but I decide that it is a detail not worth thinking about too much. A chill crawls up my spine, and the smell of blood begins to waft around us. My smile drops. Someone has entered campus. Their intent is killer.

My gaze snaps over to my cousin who is engaged in the eavesdropping. I feel the bloodthirsty presence get somewhat closer, but not close enough to be a threat. Not yet anyways. _Let's just wait this one out…_

"Tomorrow night's battle will be between the Guardians of Rain."

Squalo is quick to show his pleasure. "I've been waiting for this moment. I can finally have some real fun! Don't you dare runaway just because you remembered the overwhelming difference in strength from last time Katana brat." He also seems to know exactly whom he is fighting.

The scent of blood is becoming more pungent. It is the only thing that I can really smell while listening to a young boy's laugh. The fact that it is Yamamoto Takeshi's laugh makes the moment feel a little foreboding. "You don't have to worry about that," Takeshi says in response. "I'm so excited I won't be able to sleep."

The pride oozing from the 'Katana Brat's' every word has left me oh so excited.

I smirk and sit myself up. Mia pulls a Ricky Bobby, doing the same thing. The building rattles again, the shakes being a lot less intense than the ones during Hayato and Belphagor's battle. An unknown voice tells all Varia leaders present that an intruder is here and killing off Levi's subordinates. The child-like voice I have heard a few times this evening pulls an 'I told you so' while Sawada seems to be utterly confused by the situation and Levi seems to be pissed. _All this chatter is getting boring._

I start spacing out and counting windows until I hear Sawada Tsunayoshi shout, "Hibari-san!" The boss candidate goes spouting nonsense about invincibility and scrambles, and I pull out my binoculars to get a look at things. Then I chuckle. _Hibari Kyoya is in the mafia… I wonder how his dad will take this?_ I imagine the scenario in which this new hobby comes to light and only cringe at the thought of this kid dying. Kyoya and his father are birds of a feather; I'm sure he's only playing along with this because it is the best means of attaining something. We all know being in the Mafia is not a lucrative lifestyle unless you are at the top.

"Unlawfully breaking into the school and, moreover, vandalizing the premises. By reason of joint responsibility everyone here will be bitten to death."

I cackle to the irony. Mia slips the hood of her sweatshirt on and asks if it is time to leave. Though it probably is a good time to vamoose, I want to see how this plays out. "Uh, hold on. I wanna stay for this."

Some shouts and yelps echo across the campus, and I see Levi race in to attack Hibari. But Hibari easily sidesteps, tripping the large man in the process. The guardian (obviously on Sawada's side) pulls out a pair of tonfas and gives his mark. "Then I'll start with you."

_Okay. Time to go. I'm not going to gamble on this guy possibly finding us while administering his justice._ I lightly tug the ear buds out and turn the listening device off. Snapping my fingers, Mia looks over and watches my fingers point to our exit. Ten seconds has us up on our feet and leaving the roof. We are both quiet flitting down the flights of stairs. The smell of blood is strong in here too. Getting down to the first floor, I see five stock-still bodies and the blood pool had caught wind of at the end of the long hallway ahead. I point Mia to a side exit to avert her from the bodies and she dashes away. With her gone I run faster to an alternate exit, gripping my small bag tighter, to go out—

"You."

I stop and see Hibari ten feet away from me. _Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about this?_

"What are you doing here at this hour," the boy questions in that authoritative and crisp tone of his. The red and gold band on his arm catches my eye.

_Authority… perfect._ I return his terse stare. "Your father sent me to find you and escort you home."

Hibari's glare sharpens, as if I struck a nerve. "I will not be escorted anywhere."

I cock a brow. "Then you will go home without me."

Though I cannot say that I know this kid (at all) I do know his dad, and I know Hibari-dono is not someone you disobey—ever. The teenager with soft looking black hair and steel blue eyes looks ready to beat the hell out of me, but walks past me with that bloodthirsty disposition of his. "Clean this mess up."

My body instantly shifts to a low bow. "Yes Hibari-sama."

Once the door behind me closes I cut the act. My body relaxes again and my eyes look down to the mess of bodies in front of me.

"Clean this up? Pshh, he's got me fucked up."

I race over to the main doors and silently exit, heading over to the train station. My lungs feel good and my heart is pumping as I hop up the last steps to the train platform Mia and I have met on before. Like the last time I was here, flies are swirling around the stinky green trashcans. Unlike last time I was here Mia is waiting for me. She is slouched lazily on one of the many benches with her eyes closed. After I question, "You got here before me," I notice the blood on her hand. "What happened to you?"

She is looking at me with one eye open. That one eye looks very glassy and very dilated. Her mouth doesn't move.

My glance focuses on her right hand that is keeping a constant, bloody drip. I point it out. "Mimi, what the fuck happened to your hand?"

Her other eye finally opens, and they both look at the savage thing. My cousin's brown eyes gaze dreamily at her hand with numerous cuts and gashes, brown shards of glass embedded into her skin. Then a familiar smell comes. Like antifreeze it has a sweet initial smell, but it hides a stinging after smell. Morphine. Finally Mia looks back to me and answers me gruffly, "I don't know."

Then she pukes.

I jump back with teary eyes. "Eww."

My nose is on fire.

I grab the small black bag slung my shoulder and reach for a rag that I have inside of it, loosely wrapping it over her hand. I tell my dazed cousin to walk, but she totters down the steps like a penguin. _I need to grab a taxi home._ I wave and whistle loudly, and a small white sedan pulls up quickly. The old man driving asks if he needs to take us to the hospital. Right then I look to the brunette who loudly whispers, "Alana… Beware of taxi men…"

I look back to the driver. "No, I just need to get her home."

* * *

><p><strong>October 22<strong>**nd**

With my backpack strapped over my shoulder I slip inside the train's closing door just on time. I look around the nearly empty train reminding myself that this is the last one of the night. I sit down, distanced from the two others in the car and pull out my reading materials on the Vongola. Aside from a few clicks and clacks, along with the idle purr of streamlined wind, I keep my eyes focused on the papers, now educating myself on the Ninth Vongola Boss and his rat pack of old men he keeps close to him. _I should take that back, there are one or two young ones that are fairly good looking in their photos._

On occasion I underline something that seems relatively important with a green pen I always keep around. Engrossing myself in research makes the train ride feel only like minutes. The silver doors open, the men shuffle out of the train car before me, and I follow them quickly while sliding the manila envelope back in place.

Here in Tokyo the air smells dirty. Tokyo is a dirty town. But all of Japan has its fair share of dirt. I look up at the blackish gray sky void of stars and amassed in light pollution as my feet move briskly to the meeting place. Dark empty buildings try to scare me back home, but I focus on the iron gateway ahead of me a few kilometers. Then my mind drifts to Mia. _Is she okay? Will she be okay?_ There are many questions I would like to ask her—the main one being where the hell she got the morphine from—but they will have to wait.

_Well, she did say she was a superhero while I stitched her hand up_.

I finally cross the gateway and see a tall, burly silhouette holding a cigarette with an orange tip. He is leaning against a building in the calmest of fashions as I amble over to him, his black-rimmed glasses becoming more visible with the closing distance. "You're late," the coworker states with a hint of sarcasm.

"Meh," I reply with shrugging shoulders. "Blame it on the springtime of youth. It makes some girls retarded."

"What?"

I shake my head and gesture him to follow at the same time. "Nothing. Never mind. Let's just get the fuck out of here."

Stitch takes a step out of the shadow he was lingering under, now showing off his shaved head and plethora of piercings that include ear gauges large enough to shove a cigar through. My head tilts up to the man easily a foot taller than I before we slink over to the drab office to get my keys and paperwork. Under the pale light Stitch's huge hands that taught me how to break collarbones by simply squeezing look deft and intimidating. His deep blue eyes are serious. We walk out of the office and over to the white and blue helicopter a half-mile away. Our destination is brightly lit with large overhead lights keeping night workers in check.

"So explain again how you afforded a Bell 206L?"

I look up and smile at the Stitch's well defined face. "Remember how I was over in Brazil a lot a few months ago?"

"Yeah."

"Well the guy I was doing jobs for wasn't going to pay until everything was done that he wanted, and on one of the jobs I killed the original owner of the helicopter. I told him to let me keep the helicopter and we were kosher."

He gives me a look resembling mischief. "What was the rank of these missions?"

"Just measly A ranks," I reply looking around the slightly busy place. Boats are getting cargo unloaded nearby, men driving trucks and forklifts are also scurrying about. It is interesting to watch people perform normal jobs. All the meanwhile Stitch booms out a smooth and manly laugh, mentioning how much he hates my luck. I smirk. "That was not luck, it was simply business."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

word count: 8,850  
>[I do not own any KHR characters]<br>Thanks to my co-author Ausumist for beta-ing the story.

If you like this story, do read the companion story _And There I Live Among the Clams_ by Ausumist. It's the same story, but in Mia's POV.

**- The Captain**


	9. Pay Day, Mayday, and the Comeback Kid

**October 22nd**

"So how do you want to do this?"

Sitting quietly atop a nearby tree branch, Stitch's dark eyeglass frames shift away from the dark sky towards my position in another tree close by. I wriggle my eyebrows playfully and give him the option of going in silently or wrecking shit up like Gangbusters.

He lets out a small laugh and repeats in English, "Gangbusters?"

"You know, like guns blazing, Rambo shit!"

He laughs again. "Yeah, let's not act like Rambo tonight."

I roll my eyes. "Lame."

While inspecting my gray raglan sweatshirt and khaki skinnies, the eyes stop, caught on a small 'x' I drew on my hand before leaving Tokyo, a little reminder because to ask Stitch a certain question—one pretty relevant to this evening. So I spring next to him and ask in Italian, "Do you have your packet on you?"

An unexpected crackling snaps my attention to a doe wandering below us as my partner pulls some papers out of his backpack._ Don't forget your surroundings_, I remind myself.

Quickly I crouch down next to him and take a good look at his info, muttering various details out loud that seem important. I say each target's name and let their faces imprint: young and ehh looking, old, older, grandpa old, middle aged and not bad. My prattle goes on, while I really check if he received all the same jobs I did. _Nope, nothing about the case in his file._

"Are you looking at who the targets are for the first time?"

"Is there something wrong with that?"

Stitch laughs while brushing something off of his jeans. "What would the world think of _il calabrone_ if they knew you were so lackadaisical."

My head tilts as I repeat back in English. "The Hornet? Wait. Are you calling me _The Hornet_?" _And what does he mean, 'were?'_

"That's what everyone calls you."

I look around the forest for some hidden audience. "Who's everyone?"

Stitch's thick Italian accent growls in hushed frustration, "Do you not keep up with anything?"

I let out a small chuckle. "No. I don't read the newspaper, I don't watch the news, and I don't care what is going on in the mafia world. I go to work and kill a few people, and then I go home and do little shit I like to do or travel… So instead of pissing me off with feeble sarcasm, is there something I should know?"

The tan-skinned man gives a stupefied look, as if I'm some ridiculous minority. He even shakes his head at me. "Well, Dee. While you are busy reading manga and masturbating at home—"

I interrupt. "Masturbating? Please. Don't group me with those dego whores you like to run with."

He huffs. "Fine. Whatever. But you have made a name for yourself in the mafia world. Everyone is calling you the Hornet and our boss seems to be very pleased. Do I need to explain the name, too?"

I smile. "Yes, because the last thing I want to be called is something I'm deathly allergic to… This is sounding way too emblematic." My eyes slide away; smile fading to a pleased smirk. "Like I'm batman or something."

He cocks a brow. "Batman doesn't kill people."

"I know, shut the fuck up. A girl can dream." I start laughing at my own joke. The tree shakes with my humor, too.

Stitch slides his glasses back in place, bringing notice to the nasty scar over his left eyelid: thick, bubbled, and four centimeters long. It reminds that the eye under the scar is only glass. "They are calling you the Hornet because you act like one—you assassinate the assassins. We are hornets and wasps, and you spend your time killing off the wasps regardless of what family they're from, just because you can—and you've made a lot of enemies in the process."

"Hmm." I nod. "Well, I guess I'll have to start locking my front door, then."

Our banter continues about this 'Hornet' thing I have been unaware of for nearly six months while we finish our preparations, checking gear, turning phones off, et cetera. I remind Stitch to cover up his tattoos to avoid trouble in the onsen and he unrolls the sleeves to his maroon shirt. I'm giving the secluded bathhouse a final look. Surrounded by large, old trees, it's a timeless looking structure that every American thinks of when imagining Japan, China, or any oriental place (except India). The silk covered windows only reveal faint shadows of bystanders and targets moving around in their rooms. Behind the super traditional looking bed and breakfast is steam rising from what I am assuming is the hot spring. I am kind of lost in it all until Stitch strangely asks how many people have I killed. I quickly reply that I don't keep a grand total; it's a number best left to the judges.

Then he asks, "Well, do you know how many this year?"

I look up to the black sky above us speckled with countless stars. "Uhh, I think I'm in the 180s this year… but I count bodyguards and dogs and shit like that. Oh! And I can't forget the dude that had the tiger—" My faces reenacts that moment of surprise," That was totally unexpected… but awesome."

"How many were assassins?"

His questions are starting to irk me, but I still answer. "Forty five, fifty, I think."

He nods, silent like the old surrounding woods. I shrug my shoulders, telling him it is time to move. Silent, we drop out of our tree, race down the woodland hill, and flit to a side entrance of the bed and breakfast. The doors are so very close to the hot springs. _I would kill for some time to soak_.

Right at the door it hits me why he was asking all the questions: the hit I have on him. Stitch's hand is on the door handle as I stop him with gentle arm grab. His hazel eyes snap to mine with firm intent. I smirk.

"Do you trust me, Mike?"

His blood thirst does not subside, but he answers, "Yeah."

I slink in front of him and open the door. "Then you won't die tonight."

My first step inside is light and careful, meant to check the condition of the wood floors. High glossed and void of any residue, my next steps are quick and fixed. Soundless. Stitch turns down a corner to head straight to the banquet room where the targets are supposed to be; I'm after 'black case guy first.' His room is an easy find, and the music playing inside will help mask the events to come. I slide open the silk-screened door.

The Dutch target startles to my appearance in the cozy room. The unexpected visitor that entered without knocking, entered with a grin and entered with obvious intentions. "I'm sure you know why I'm here," I start with a cheerful tone. Kneeling on the floor about two meters from me, at once the fair skinned man is on all fours and racing across the tatami mats to a closet nearby. I clear the distance between us in one bound and grip his mouth shut. My voice is low and imperious. "Where is the case."

His blue eyes (missing the eyeglasses shown in the photos) trail to the closet a foot away. _Bingo_. I give him a harsh shove and raid the messy closet for the case. The lanky fellow is scurrying around behind me, and after finding my golden ticket under a heap of dirty laundry I turn to see a gun in his hands. "D-drop the case," he shouts weakly in mushed up Japanese.

I hold back my laughter from his inexperienced grip, but a smirk still spreads. With a nod and a shoulder shrug, I reply, "Okay."

Then I throw it at him as hard as I can.

The man's body jolts, dropping the silenced gun for the mystery case, becoming like every other rookie textbook kill. Rushing in, I catch his falling gun by its barrel and clobber him in the face with its handle. My other hand grabs his thin, blonde hair to keep him from hitting the floor too hard. _Don't need to alert anyone, almost done. _

While the man writhes on floor holding his face, I straddle and cover his mouth before saying, "Jones sends his regards." Like ordered, I hammer the gun down on his left hand repeatedly, fully restraining his thrashing moans. With a sigh, I pound and pound until there is a hand no more, just blood and mush and little pieces of flattened, shredded skin.

At this point there shouldn't be anything that allows him to feel the pain, but his sobs don't stop. I watch him—a full grown man so much bigger than I—cry like a child. Awkwardly. _Men aren't supposed cry this way. I don't cry like this, so there's no reason for you to cry so pathetically._ Giving him a hard stare, I tell him to stop—its over. He settles strangely, shoulders shaking with his sob-like breathing. I just drop the gun next to the indistinguishable pulp and slink out.

"How the hell did you get lost," Stitch asks when I appear, strutting around the corner. He presses the coin return button on a vending machine next to him and grabs his change. The doors to our banquet room are right across.

"I had some other business to attend to first," I reply, showing off the black briefcase half my size. I gently set the thing next to the vending machines. "Ladies first, I presume?"

Vexed, he gestures me to take the lead.

This part of the night is easy. The doors slide open for me, allowing a dash to the farthest target in the room and snapping his neck. Moving to the next one, I see Stitch punch a bodyguard's throat in. "Wow," I say with a rise of a brow, "_looks like I'm working with a badass_," while breaking another bodyguard's wrist. I see him give me a small grin while telling me to shut the fuck up, and I start laughing. Then a knife swings and almost gets my left kidney. I laugh more, my grip tight around the blade. "Good one, _you almost got me_." Giving the attacker a clean hit to his floating ribs, I rip the knife from hands and shove into his ear.

Before I know it we are done, and it all seems so anticlimactic. Well, I did mess up a hand a little being careless. But I chuckle it off and look to Stitch. "What rank was this mission?"

"S."

I look at the five men and seven bodyguards strewn about the banquet room, their table covered in fresh food. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"How lame." I pluck a morsel of pork from a nice smelling platter and eat it. _Damn, that's fucking delicious._ Then I drink a cup of sake on the table. _There's no sense in wasting this. _

The both of us walk calmly out of the party room and remain cavalier through the silent hallways. With the black case in one hand and porcelain teapot full of sake in the other, the night is seeming more successful by the second until my eyes hone in on the a scene laid out in front of us at the end of the hallway. Just ahead where our path forks is the man I took the case from sitting inside his room with the door halfway open. _Shit! Did I not shut it all the way?_ I take a breath to stop my unnecessary worry, only to watch the blonde grab the gun I left and shove it in his mouth. A bang rattles the silk covered walls. Someone screams. As the guy plops forward, now missing the back half of his head, Stitch and I stop and look at each other. I can't help but let out a surprised laugh. "Did that really just happen?"

By the time we get out of the onsen, through the woods, and back to where my helicopter is, my teapot of sake is gone. I'm already feeling a light buzz too. I walk through tall grasses with happy hums while Stitch quietly follows. The sky is still dark, still spotted with stars, as I place the mystery briefcase inside the helicopter. Then a shiver runs down my spine, my instincts tell me something is coming—_from behind_—and I duck, looking back and seeing Stitch throwing a punch at me.

His cold expression reveals this is only the beginning.

My hands start whipping back and forth like crazy to forcefully swat away his rabid punches. My feet speed up to get away from my current position between Stitch and the helicopter. As the one-eyed death bringer swings again, I dodge and lay a good punch on a pressure point in his thigh. He growls and I evade… Well, I stumble.

"What the fuck, man?" I yell at him, my buzz stronger at my new location in this grassy clearing surrounded by woods.

He slides his glasses back in place. "What do you mean, what the fuck?" His steps are a calm and confident prowl. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

My head tilts, now pissed."Is this about your eye? Because if it is, I'm going to be pissed: I said I was sorry. We did the _one hit and forget_."

"Fuck your hit and forget shit."

I crack my knuckles and point at Stitch mockingly. "No, you shattered my cheekbone and I accepted it. But if you want to plunge up old shit, you'll regret it."

He stops walking, looking down on me with his one eye and readying his clenched fists. "And why's that?"

I smile and throw my hands up, feeling a drunken rage stir. "Because I let you live the first time."

* * *

><p>My eyes open to a bright, early morning. I'm lying in the tall grass beside my dark blue helicopter, and there are only the sounds of the outdoors around me. Birds, wind, snapping twigs and bugs. <em>Helicopter, sky, dry grass… I'm still in the small field from last night? <em>When sitting myself up, my head totters as if there is a sandbag attached to it. _Shit. I'm still drunk… My knee really hurts… Actually, a lot of me hurts._

"Where—" I stop immediately and grab my sore throat. My voice is wrought and my neck feels like it was nearly crushed. I rasp again. "Where the fuck am I?"

_I totally sound like The Dark Night. _"Because I'm Batman."

I laugh despite how painful if feels.  
>The pain makes me laugh more.<p>

Scanning the surrounding field, my vision blurs momentarily in that weird/still drunk haze.I come to realize this is where I landed the 'copter to do our hit last night. "Where's Stitch?" I croak.

My eyes close for a second as I sniff the air. I catch his smell, open my eyes and pause (waiting for everything to stop spinning) before walking where instinct is leading. The aches and pains clawing more every step are ignored. Ahead are a bunch of snapped bamboo trees. Closer to the broken trees, I find my coworker in a very uncomfortable kneeling slump. His head is resting against the ground in the most uncomfortable position for his neck. I lazily sit myself next to him.

"Hey," I mutter in my monster growl. "We gotta go."

Stitch doesn't hear me it seems, so I give him a light shove to rouse him. But the action makes his head and neck tweak into a ninety-degree angle, and now Stitch's vertebrae looks like it is trying to break through his skin. "Agh, that's fucking freaky," I squawk, flinching away from him. Then I get mad and growl, "Dude, don't be fucking exorcist right now," as I shove him again and force him to roll over. Then I see his face. "Holy shit."

Something put a crater in his face.

_Obliterated jaw and nasal cavity… something blunt, about six centimeters in diameter… I bet his neck is broken too._

I look at my aching knee. My pants have blood marks all over them. "No…"

I keep staring. _Were these stains on me when I left the onsen?_ "… Damn…"

I scratch my head. _I have no idea what the fuck happened last night._

"I will never drink a teapot full of sake again."

In the distance a phone starts going off, my ringtone for Jones, so I rush back over to my helicopter and answer it. He asks why I haven't arranged a meet up, and I make the excuse of a power nap. Looking back to where Stitch lies, Jones says he will call in an hour to arrange a place. My eyes give the phone a time glance. _I have no time to get back to Tokyo…_ The call ends, and I'm left to burn Stitch's body in the quickest and most half assed fashions ever, throwing broken tree limbs over him along with dry grass and some of extra fuel I brought with me. Just enough to make him unidentifiable for at least a month and not start a complete wildfire. Now I have to fly a helicopter. And I am very sure that I am still drunk.

Despite this, I manage to get home in one piece, now in a 'half drunk' state. My flight time was more of a thinking time, and I can remember Stitch pissing me off by bringing up the eye accident from way back and then me admitting the kanji tattooed on his neck actually means pussycat panty whore. I also remember him having his hands around my neck. This whole morning has put me in a very indifferent mood. Maybe its because I really am craving my usual hangover steak and coke from a soda fountain._ I need fresh Coca Cola._

But I have no time for food and next to no time to prepare for a meet up. Hungry, indifferent, and now dealing with a headache, I throw in the towel for giving a fuck about this morning and land the helicopter in the yard. I say out loud, "Jones can meet me at the damn cake place for all I care now," and begin walking to the house. The phone starts to ring. I sigh and check to see who it is. Jones. _Dammit_. A quick answer is given, and the boss reveals that he is pulling into my driveway. I feel my stomach drop. Seeing that black car driving up the gravel road, I get mad. Seething.

_How dare he invite himself to my fucking house._

Not even bothering to walk inside the house anymore, I am holding the case he wants as he gets out of the car. Jones is quick to ask for it in his native Russian tongue. "I assume you let nothing damage this?" He asks with an impatient hand reaching for it.

"No damage," I croak in response, "But I'm not giving this thing up so easily. You have a lot of nerve showing up here."

Piqued, he pulls his hand away. "I'm here for more reasons than one. You like to stay busy; I like to keep you busy."

"More like you want me dead."

"If you couldn't kill Mike Bellarizio, then you deserved death. Give me the case."

My half buzz kicks into full gear, and my anger translates to English. "Nuh-uh. You want to fuck with me at my house, I will fucking murder you." Jones' bodyguards assert a more aggressive stance as I continue. "You want this case? Fine. Then I want you to give me my pay and I want Stitch's bank accounts, too. This busy bee wants her honey."

The old man gives me a cold, expectant stare. "And if I don't."

My laugh is scornful. "Then kiss whatever is in this case goodbye because I'm about to destroy it."

Jones and I lock eyes for war, but I do it with a smile. _He knows I'll do it. I don't give a fuck. _Our eyes scream silent sinister snubs until Jones snaps his fingers at a bodyguard beside him. "iPad." The device of black and silver is passed to him quickly, and Jones' fingers tap the screen in a blaze. "Done," he growls, "Now give me the case."

I let out an idle snort when giving it back. Jones snatches it away before slapping me across the face. Now angrier than ever, I keep my evil grin hidden from Jones' gaze while he spits, "Don't you ever threaten me again."

My eyes lock back on to his, the burn of my pride now throbbing on my cheek. "Keep treating me like a fool, and there won't be a threat."

The man is rearing to slap another lesson into me, but is reminded the time by a bodyguard and stops. Jones' green eyes stab into me. "The Pesca family has three people in Namimori Junior High acting as faculty to keep tabs on the Vongola candidate. Kill them."

A brow cocks. "The Pesca are supposed allies."

"That was before they started keeping secrets. Remind them who is helping who."

After a quick 20 questions, I realize there is no information to go on. I have to figure out who they are and kill them. _I'll need to get into the school_. Jones informs me that he wants it done within the fortnight. I give him an okay and start walking back to the house. Upon hearing car doors shut behind me, a window rolls down.

"Dee."

I glance back to Jones in his cushy back seat.

"You should start locking your door; you wouldn't want that cousin of yours to go missing."

As soon as the car's engine is too far to hear, I race inside my house. It's absolutely silent. "Mia?" I yell in my scratchy, alien voice. There's no response. My blood starts racing, but I decide to just call her. Her voice answers promptly. "Hello," Mimi answers, cheerful and alive.

_Thank fucking Jesus._

"Howdy." I say, trying to sound as normal a possible while racing up the stairway towards my bathroom. "Where are you?" The mirror displays all the damages of last night's fight against Stitch. Nowhere on my neck is my natural skin color.

"I'm with my friend, Hana-chan."

"Oh, Hana-chan." I repeat now shuffling through the many things under my sink. "That's cool." I grab a small cotton towel and a large bottle of white vinegar while saying, "Well I'm just letting you know that I'm here. And it really fucking freaked me out that you weren't."

* * *

><p><strong>October 22nd<strong>

I thought Mia's idea was stupid. _Seriously, who brings a picnic to a sword fight?_ My cousin does, apparently. I look over to the girl happily munching on popcorn next to me and conclude that she doesn't really understand the weight of the events taking place in front of us. She does not take life too seriously. _Well, maybe I don't either._

But here we sit inside a random classroom on the school's second floor with Mia's array of snacks for the Rain Battle showdown between Superbi Squalo and Sushi Kid Takeshi. My busty cousin full of smiles and even brought a blanket to sprawl over a few desks, milk too. Laying flat on my stomach, the thought of drinking some milk is winning me over.

Though we did not get here early tonight like the other nights, we came at the perfect time to hear those Cervello say over an intercom that they will be projecting the fight onto a giant screen outside. So we happily found ourselves the best classroom to watch the charade and set ourselves up for the flick. Mia shows me a bag of chocolate chip cookies… _it's on_. "Nice!"

"**Now for the Ring of Rain: Superbi Squalo vs. Yamamoto Takeshi. Begin the battle."**

My gaze whips to the large screen and catches Yamamoto Takeshi barely duck to avoid Squalo's opening slash. The battleground looks to be inside a dilapidated school building void of walls, windows, or an escape. Just cracked pillars and concrete floors with areas completely missing to reveal similar looking levels above and below.

Inside the dark arena, Squalo wastes no time in following up his missed strike with four tiny gunshots blasting out of his blade. Yamamoto barely dodges the bullets, and their impact to the floor causes water to blast towards the ceiling of their decrepit arena. I smirk. _Wow, aren't you just an impressive young padawan. You can avoid Squalo when he's fighting at fifty percent.~_

Finally amused, I switch to a sitting position.

"Ho, you avoided it, did you?" asks the equally, semi-impressed Varia shark.

"Yikes. The daily image training I did after losing to you paid off." Replies Yamamoto, and that makes me chuckle. _Oh, how I worry for Tsuyoshi now… Image training?_

Yamamoto's seasoned opponent instantly mocks such cheap methods and hits him with a dose of reality, dashing towards him and utilizing the water in a feint to disappear. Squalo bounces off a nearby wall to attack him from behind. Right as the green sword handler reacts and turns, Squalo informs the boy that he is far stronger than what he has displayed thus far. The Varia Commander proves it too, shooting four more of those gunshots right in Yamamoto's face.

Squalo is already leaping away from the scene, leaving strange and swirling water rings and clouding vapor. My heart pounds at once realizing that this is not what was supposed to happen with that attack. That microscopic hint of surprise in Squalo's pale blue eyes affirms it. "What was that?!" he asks to the Asian no longer holding a kendo stick, but a beautiful katana sized a tad long for his height.

"Ah!" I remark, geeking out. "A form-changing sword!"

He gives the blade a rehearsed swing before situating himself in the rudimentary forward stance. It's cute and amazing all in its own that he has come so far in so little time, that Yamamoto Takeshi.

_Yamamoto should be happy his sword is not the first form-changer I've witnessed. That one is in my closet with the other trophies._

Amazing or not, Squalo gives the spry teen no breathing room as he charges in head on. He shoots some more of those little baby gunshots at Yamamoto with another playful swing. As the charging shark rushes in, the sushi kid hesitates before flourishing his katana in a defensive stance that allows yet another escape from a killer slash. Squalo lets out an annoyed groan to the teen kneeling in front him. Then Squalo's expression changes to one of amusement, seeing that proud half-smirk of his.

"Hey brat," the Varia Commander yells, "Why didn't you attack after defending?" Seeing Yamamoto's risen brow, Squalo no longer looks for an answer. "You're really a complete idiot! You just gave up your very last chance at wounding me!"

It's sad to see Squalo looking down on his opponent so much, but it makes sense. I swallow my mouthful of cookies with a quick gulp of milk, and cross my arms to the events at play.

Yamamoto's blank expression unexpectedly turns to a happy grin that shows all of his teeth, his eyes disappear too. It's an expression I know very well—it's exactly how I take an insult. _Squalo has ruffled the goose's feathers; will he enjoy the chase that comes after?_

"Haha… When you say last…" Yamamoto questions, trying to make sense of Squalo's arrogance, "You sure do talk big, don't you?"

I let out a quick and uncontrollable "Pft!" to my new favorite underdog.

Then Yamamoto Takeshi's brimming arrogance floods the arena with a beautiful proclamation to the shark, "Let me first make this clear. This isn't all there is to the Shigure Souen Style."

The green boy charges forward with gritted teeth, swinging his blade so quickly that I barely catch him switch the hand wielding the katana mid-strike. But I for sure catch Squalo perfectly dodge the beautiful attack. I just shake my head and mutter, "Wow."

_Swords are just such beautiful things. It's too bad that I lack the elegance or precision to kill with such finesse._ Staring down at my crossed arms, I come to the conclusion that I'm not that great with the fans I am currently using either.

"Hey!" I hear the Varia leader dressed black yell. He's telling the baseball player his attack did nothing at all when my attention goes back to the playing field. The water has risen a little bit since the battle started. While Squalo mocks Yamamoto's 'invincible style,' the camera hones in on Superbi Squalo's expression of sheer contempt. Those slighting eyes barely shown under his silvery white hair, that light heckling smile. The Sword Emperor bears a finely crafted expression of absolute ridicule. It pisses me off.

The last time I saw it was when he left me for dead.

Part of me desires to reflect on the past, but I ignore that and listen to the boot strapped shark's questions instead. The guy asks Yamamoto why he used the back of his sword instead of the blade, and Yamamoto instantly informs that he only wants to win the fight—not kill. My hand swiftly covers my gaping mouth.

Yamamoto—_clearly_—is not averse to the verbal low blow.

"HEY! AREN'T YOU UNDERESTIMATING ME TOO MUCH," warns the irate assassin. The Varia shark goes headlong for the 'katana brat' screaming, "Looks like you still don't understand what kind of situation you are in! I'll make it so you can never open that conceited mouth of yours again!"

Yamamoto swings his blade, using the same defensive sword form used only a moment ago (_no, don't do that retard!_). The swing throws water up as illusive shield against an opponent, but the sushi kid could not have expected Squalo to do the same thing. So all we can see on the screen are pillars of water hiding both swordsmen in the run-down claptrap. The question now is which swordsman will successfully strike the other?

When the water walls finally fall, a voice below us, Sawada Tsunayoshi's voice, yells out Yamamoto's name loudly. Anxious and panicky, his tone informs all spectators who he think will win tonight. Squalo has lain what looks like a deep slash into his opponent's left shoulder. I wonder if that look on Yamamoto's face is one of surprise, fear, or a healthy dose of both?

"How's that? Hurts doesn't it?" Squalo jibes haughtily. "Let me tell you one last piece of bad news that'll make you despair: I've completely seen through all of your techniques. This Shigure Souen Style of yours is one I already defeated long ago!"

_Yeah, his expression is both._

The young, novice swordsman slumps in front of Squalo like a flightless bird. It's sad and pathetic, and it makes me want to punch the kid. I slightly fidget in my Indian-style position, my back getting tired of hunching over my crisscrossed legs, and gripe at the teen from my faraway spot. "Your dad did not teach you kendo so you could punk out like a little bitch from a flesh wound. Get up, dumbass."

Squalo explains to Yamamoto how, in his search of strong opponents to prepare him for his future fight with the original Sword Emperor, he discovered the Shigure Souen Style. The tall shark happily informs the kid crouched in front of him gripping his wounds about how he sliced up the successor and his two students to ribbons. Apparently they used the same eight forms as Yamamoto does.

Oddly enough, Squalo's high and mighty lecture of how Yamamoto has no chance stirs the boy. "I've never heard of such a thing…" the sushi kid states. Then the baseball boy whose skin is just about as dark as mine and whose are eyes lighter than mine bestir in intent once again. Yamamoto grips his wound a bit as he stands himself up sporting that same cocky smirk from only a few minutes ago. "The Shigure Souen Style I've heard about is completely flawless and invincible."

_The one 'he' has heard about?_ My head cocks to the interesting choice of words.

Squalo, on the other hand, is astounded. "Hey! Are you an idiot!?"

Yamamoto grips his sword tightly. "You won't know until you give it a try."

_Wait. Does he mean the sword style he knows is different than what Squalo is talking about? _A light, amused snort escapes me as Squalo declares he is done holding back. The sushi kid sprints towards Squalo for their next clash, both swinging their swords wildly. Slash, parry, flourish and water splashes. As Yamamoto is rearing to attack, Squalo smartly hacks his long sword into a cement pillar by him, causing rubble to shell in the sushi kid's direction and take out an eye. Yamamoto lets out a pained groan and falls to the pooled ground.

"Hey, don't stop moving!" chides Yamamoto's radiating opponent who is already moving in for another assault. Squalo's sword makes a strange clang against Yamamoto's, and I can even see Yamamoto's arm just jerk awkwardly after. _Oh! Shit!_

I point at the screen excitedly. "Damn, he did that paralyze trick." _  
><em>

Yamamoto has the cutest, confused expression as he struggles to grasp the idea that his arm is not moving. Then Squalo shouts, "DIE" with the biggest of grin. That makes the kid react. Yamamoto punches his arm to shock it back to life (_like a little genius_) but fails to fully escape Squalo's savage slash. Hitting the watery ground, Yamamoto's sword turns back into a kendo stick, but the guardian candidate immediately picks himself back up.

I muse, "Shit, you won't be using that hand for a while," remembering a guy who quickly died after Squalo did that same exact trick. Yamamoto even has that same look of fatigue, too. "Come on. Get em'."

"So how is it? You're looking a little under the weather!" the Varia Commander quips while closing the gap between them. Yamamoto smartly flees up to a higher level over the shredded school building they are fighting in. The kid cutely blows on his hand that is probably numb, and tries to restrain his obvious jitters. _Wait, is he wearing sandals?_

I quietly chuckle and shake my head to his poor choice in footwear… _kids._ _Give them a fight to the death, and they choose to do it in sandals…_

Then out of nowhere the floor under Yamamoto crumbles, and Squalo's is thrusting his sword upward at the teen like a goddamn machine. All reaction leaves Yamamoto as he falls down to the lower level of their battleground and plops into the water. Squalo merely spectates the boy's plight from higher ground. I scratch my head, getting mad that the only match whose ending I do kind of care about… I'll be damned if this kid dies…

"Well then, brat! I'm going to shred your heart," says Squalo in his domineering stance. I find the action a bit over the top and tasteless. _Did someone forget to lecture him about beating a dead horse?_

Yamamoto, laying lethargically, lightly lips, "Isn't it just one-sided like this… If dad knew I lost, he'd probably be mad…"

_Or devastated_.

Mia and I watch Squalo taunt Yamamoto like the supercilious shark he is, trying to provoke the kid to fight on and even asking if he would like a demonstration of all eight forms of the Shigure Souen Style, going so far as to say, "When the eighth form, Autumn Rain, is released, you can just tragically disintegrate."

I cock a brow to the twenty year old. _Fucking classy, Superbi Squalo._ _Are you going to demolish him a Yu-gi-oh duel, too? The night is young…_

No. Squalo outshines my ideas with an even grander display of douchebaggery. The silver haired Varia leader stares right into the camera and says, "Hey! You Brats! This Katana Brat's ugliest last moments—you'd better burn them into your mind!"

"Jesus…" I groan, just annoyed with the spectacle now, "I swear to God he deserves smiting just on principle alone. This is just embarrassing." _You could show some professionalism, I mean, you are a 'world class' assassin._

And then like an answered prayer, the sound of water gushing alerts us to Yamamoto's second wind. "Yes!" I cheer to the game changer. Though his stance seems based on willpower alone, there's a firmness about it that just radiates in positude. _Yamamoto Takeshi—the comeback kid._

I look at my cousin at the same time I reach for another chocolate chip cookie in the pile. "Mia, I don't know what they say about Yamamoto at school, but he's cool in my book."

"They all like him," replies my cousin who has been holding the same popcorn for at least five minutes. Her head nods slightly as she adds. "They all say he's a reliable guy."

I'm fixated on the boy Squalo is telling to lie back down while munching on my own handful of popcorn and informing Mia that 'reliable' is a good adjective. Still watching the show in this dark and lifeless classroom, Yamamoto informs Squalo why he cannot lay back down. "… Because the Shigure Souen Style is completely flawless and invincible."

His words make my skin crawl.

Somewhere in that body of his, shown only by that cool and dark tone in his voice just now, is a natural born killer.

Will I get to see his birth tonight?

Standing above on the next story, Superbi Squalo threatens to cut out Yamamoto's tongue with a grin and performs a strong flourish that rouses the water from the level below to attack his green and galling opponent. Yamamoto Takeshi sprints, escapes the incoming walls of water and leapfrogs up some rubble to level himself with Squalo.

The kid doesn't look in bad shape, but the water is getting to him. Tiring him: the price of his inexperience. Standing behind Squalo, damn near close to a kneel, Yamamoto growls through his heavy breaths, "Let's go."

"What did you come here for?" questions Squalo, void of the decency to even face his opponent now. Yamamoto stands behind him ready to fight, all while his opponent only bothers to look back at him. But when the comeback kid begins to say "Shigure Souen Style" again, Squalo gains enough decency to stand side-face to say, "Hey, looks like you don't have any brain cells."

Yamamoto's only reply is in his low, forward dashing stance.

"I know that stance!" Squalo instantly reacts, following his 'idiot' opponent in this game of chicken, yelling, "Well, then, do it! Autumn Rain!"

_What a pretty name for a killer sword move_ is all I can think watching the two men run to each other with their blurred slashes. They both move with speed and finesse, but this time Squalo is the one that falls to the ground.

Yamamoto stands faced away from his floor-bound combatant, re-gripping his sword and chuckling. He mutters something too, but the speakers miss whatever cocky phrase the comeback kid must have said. I give the large black boxes bolted on each side of the giant screen a glance as the Varia Commander's voice blasts through them once again.

"You! Did you use another style other than the Shigure Souen Style?!"

The tall, slender teen looks to the bleeding competitor behind him with a cheerfully demeaning smirk. "No. That now was also the Shigure Souen Style." His sanguine voice gets an ever so slight tinge of arrogance in it as he adds. "The eighth form, Pouring Rain, was created by my dad."

_I knew it,_ thinking back to his comment earlier about the Shigure Souen Style._ The comeback kid is a sly one, too._ I also give myself a mental high five for my intuition of Tsuyoshi being practiced in martial arts. All of it incites the urge to work, the need of kill thrills. My eyes stay focused on Yamamoto and Squalo composing themselves while I give the right side of my jawline a hard scratch.

"Hey brat! I didn't think you'd get this far," declares the Varia man, "so I don't get that pathetic strike with the back of your blade just now. You're making a mockery of a genuine match." Squalo whips himself into a pose that I'm sure I've seen in a chapter of Sailor Moon as he then asks, "Or do you have some other form that I haven't seen before?"

Yamamoto gives an honest no, and I let out a disbelieving chuckle before covering my face with my crumb-covered hand. _This kid is a bona fide ignoramus._ _I blame Tsuyoshi for this one…_ Whether or not Tsuyoshi had anything to do with Yamamoto Takeshi's imparted truth just now, Squalo deems the brat a goner because he can taste something once and see through it, or something of that nature. _Squalo speaks retarded Japanese._

The comeback kid is still breathing heavy from his nasty gashes as he replies. "You're really something else." His panting pauses him momentarily. "I guess there's nothing for it then, I'll show it to you, Shigure Souen Style Ninth Form."

The young, tall Asian, garbed in a bloodied dress shirt that was once a pristine white, stands soaked to the bone. The way his chest moves gives the impression of some cracked ribs and possibly a clean break on that collarbone. But the kid still manages to strut in this fight—he does it all with a crooked smile—standing confidently in front of the Second Sword Emperor, perfectly poised to swing his sword (currently in kendo stick form) like a Louisville Slugger.

I find myself laughing at him again. _This kid is so fucking random. How does he have friends? _Then I remember how everyone at fourteen and fifteen is pretty 'out of style.' I laugh more remembering the stupid shit I used to do before hitting twenty.

"Unfortunately, I'm not much good at anything other than baseball," admits the silly boy still wearing that crooked smirk. _I think I missed something in the conversation…_

Squalo, standing opposite of the young student, rapidly slashes his big sword, yelling that Yamamoto better not freeze up. The water parts at the Varia man's feet, as if he were Moses. Moses with a sword, running like a madman, maybe. "Experience the true power of my sword! DIE!"

All of the water parting at Squalo's feet magically forms into a speeding bullet in front of him whilst he runs in for the kill. Their movements start to blur on the screen. Squalo flourishes Yamamoto, making all of the water around him hammer down on the kid, but Yamamoto is no longer there. All of a sudden the kid is behind Squalo, crouched and holding his once again transformed sword. My head cocks.

Knowing that the form changing swords usually change only while using a specific sword style (because I cannot get mine to transform), I know this kid has done something. I say nothing and let my teeth silently clench. It pisses me off that I've missed it.

Though it seemed as if the baseball boy had just gave himself a moment to breathe, the massive waves twist with their target in front once again. Half a second second passes, and Squalo is in front of Yamamoto laying more high-speed slashes, yet the kid manages to deflect the worst of them. I think the young gun acquired some new cuts from the attack, though.

Cuts or no cuts, I still find this kid impressive, seeing how he is fighting with only one eye. So much of your equilibrium and natural reaction ability is lost without both eyes. There are more people that have lost to that shark with two eyes, and not even lasted as long as he had. Like me. Yamamoto's swings, steps and sways have all lost that hesitation in a matter of five minutes against a Varia leader, whom I believe is his first sword opponent ever. Watching him strikes a beat within my instincts, a feeling I do not get very often. _This kid has it._ As Yamamoto attempts evasion by putting some distance between himself and Squalo, I know one thing is definitely clear: Superbi Squalo no doubt has a gift for the sword, but Yamamoto Takeshi is pure fucking talent.

_It's no wonder why Squalo is trying so hard to kill him.  
>Snip the shoot before the flower blooms.<em>

Squalo screams, "THIS IS THE END," as he swings a hard and powerful backslash. Then Yamamoto fucking shows up behind Squalo! Like Trinity from _The Matrix,_ except wielding a katana (and not fully garbed in leather), he flies in to attack. But then Squalo's hand just goes exorcist, bending backwards far beyond what's natural, for his sword to impale Yamamoto like a motherfucking javelin!

"Agh!" I yell with some restraint (there are people all around). Mia chimes in, both of us yelling, "What the fuck!?"

If all of that was not enough, Yamamoto then just turns into water, splashing Superbi Squalo like a gentle wave. But the comeback kid appears again! Now in front of Squalo in the same flying matrix stance he was in behind the Sword Emperor, he whacks the Varia Commander on the head with the back of his blade and Squalo collapses like an ivory tower. In the next second the kid also catches something falling to the ground. Yamamoto's hand opens and shows a silver ring he snatched up.

Jesus Christ this is awesome. I'm so fucking pumped; I just want to kill something. My whole body is all fidgety and shit from it all! Like the thrill that comes when death is evaded by grabbing the knife, I can barely even think straight as I hear Yamamoto coolly declare, "I won."

I look at Mia, who is now standing at the windows, watching the screen. With a wicked grin and widened eyes as I hop off of the desks, I situate myself next to her and give a quick peer out the window to everyone below us. Looking down to Sawada Tsunayoshi and his teenage comrades, with the exception of the Arcobaleno and Dino Cavallone, I hear the voice of a certain boss whom I've known to rarely speak. Xanxus.

"How pathetic! He lost!" the boss of Varia bellows. "That trash!"

Unable to help myself, I laugh along with Xanxus at his schoolyard insult and watch the giant projected screen show the once fearsome Sword Emperor, lying face down on rabbled wreckage. The overhead speakers then relay a statement from the Cervello officials to us all. There is now a shark in the battlefield.

I laugh to the irony of it all. The arrogant shark is to be eaten by the hungry shark. What a hoot. My hand quickly whips my phone out. While snapping my photo I notice how Yamamoto does not find it entertaining, as he asks the Cervello what will happen to Squalo. They make it known they don't give a rat's ass.

Yamamoto rejoinders his foresight of such an answer, then makes it clear that he will be the one to save Squalo from the perilous jaws of the hungry shark. "This kid is an idiot, isn't he?" Mia quips.

"Evidently. Who the hell saves someone that was trying to kill them thirty seconds ago?" Yamamoto's good intentions kill my excitement; I'm left standing watching a sappy, budding bromance in the making.

The both of us eye each other for a moment before Mia answers, "The Vongola."

An exaggerated sigh escapes me as my eyes wander from the jumbo screen in front of us. "Humph, well that's a fucking first." While stretching my limbs, a crashing sound booms out the speakers. The heavy sound shakes the windows in the classroom. Even the air itself vibrates. My eyes snap to the screen, where the video camera is moving to zoom in on the two swordsmen that have somehow fallen from an upper level of their school building fight zone to the same level the shark is swimming in.

"Oh fuck," I tell myself.

It looks as if words are exchanged between Yamamoto and Squalo before the Varia Commander kicks the tall, lanky teen away from him shouting. Then I notice the shark's dorsal fin closing in on Squalo and the large puddle of blood that has accumulated under him. Yamamoto lands on a pile of rocks a good distance away and tries getting himself back up. He isn't getting anywhere too quickly in his battered state, but the kid manages to sit himself up to hear what I know will be Squalo's last words.

"Brat… Your sword skills aren't bad. Next, you should get rid of that naivety of yours."

Then the Second Sword Emperor disappears from us all. The large shark got him in one masterful, break-neck champ. "That was fucking great… too fucking cool."

The city streets are barren on the drive home, odd for a Friday night. Yamamoto Takeshi's sad and frustrated expression lingers in my mind as I drive towards the house, that feeling of being so close to saving the world and then utter failure. I snort, remembering failures of my own. I also take note of Mia's silence.

"So hey, you know how they said the Mist Battle is tomorrow?"

She looks to me and gives an idle, "Yeah."

"Well, those ugly Cervello bitches said it's the Mist Battle tomorrow, and Varia's Prince Belphagor made it pretty clear Mammon (their illusionist) will be fighting. I say let's fuck watching tomorrow's match and go on that movie date instead. Illusionists are creepy fellows, not people you want to associate with."

She gives an agreeing nod before saying okay. At the same time I turn down a familiar street and let my eyes drift ahead on the road. Simply passing through, I see the lights of my favorite sushi shop open. I smirk, _Don't worry, Tsuyoshi, he's coming home._

* * *

><p><strong>Protocol:<br>**word count**: **8,385  
>Credit to the story KHR goes to<span> Amano Akira<span>,  
>Dee's story is by myself (<span>DEECAPSLOCKISON<span>),  
>and the character MimiMia belongs to Ausumist

Thank you Ausumist for beta-ing the story

If you like this story, please read _And There I live Among the Clams_ by Ausumist.  
>It is this story, but from Mimi's point of view, which gives details that this story doesn't necessarily show.<p>

**Thanks,  
><strong>**The Captain.**


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